The Angel and the Phantom
by Punjabchild
Summary: FINI A Phantom of the Opera Beauty and the Beast crossover I thought of a long time ago and decided to rewrite. Please RR!
1. Disaster of the Rose

The Angel and the Phantom

Prologue

            How does it begin in fairy tales?

            Oh yes, once upon a time, in France in the countryside surrounding Paris, a wealthy merchant lived in a large château with his six children. His sons were smart and strong and his daughter filled with beauty and grace. But his pride and joy was his youngest children, the twins; a son and daughter. His late wife had past away giving birth to them and before she died, she named them Beau and Belle which in French means "handsome" and "beauty".

            The years past. The older sons went to attend fine universities and married young. His daughters had completed finishing school and attended society gathering on behalf of the family. But the twins involved themselves in other pleasures; Beau was found of horses while Beauty was addicted to literature, music and the arts. However the happy family was torn apart when the father lost most of his goods when he lost many of his ships at sea. The merchant was bankrupt, and he and his daughters and youngest son had to sell their large house and possessions and moved into a tiny flat within the city. The merchant had to look for work and Beauty had to take care of her sisters, so depressed they were about being poor, and maintain the house. The merchant finally found work, as a common laborer at the Paris Opera House and Beau became a stable boy.

            On the day he was to receive his first wages, he asked his children if they would want a small gift.

            "Oh, a necklace father." cried Marie, his oldest.

            "A golden sash for me." begged Clara her sister

            "Nothing for me." replied Beauty.

            "Oh, Belle don't you want anything? You work so hard, you deserve something." Her father insisted.

            Belle stared out the window at the snow frosted over the street. "I would like a red rose, for there are none that grow around in the city in the winter."

            Her sisters laughed. "Where can you expect him to find a rose in winter? What a foolish request."

            But her father smiled. "Perhaps there will be some at the opera. Don't worry Beauty I shall bring you a rose before nightfall."

            And so he had left them, but that night had not returned. So Beauty had waited worried for her father's safety. ***

Chapter One:  Disaster of the Rose

Belle

            Another drop of moisture from the leaking ceiling fell onto my head. I looked up at the growing crack with annoyance. The ceiling wasn't the only problem in their new home, has my sisters had pointed out daily. The cold air came through the floors and walls and I always had to wrap myself tight in a shawl to keep myself warm. But I had other worries on my mind now. Papa hadn't come home last night. He usually tried to make it in before midnight, but I had waited up till two in the morning and there had been no sign at him. Beau had stopped me from running out to find him at night.

            "It will be all right, Belle. I'm sure he's okay." He had said.

            But I just had a feeling something wasn't right. So I tried concentrating on fixing Clara' and Marie's oatmeal for breakfast. Suddenly I saw a flash of a gray scarf in the street and glanced down to see Papa stumble in the front door to our building. I ran from the stove to the stairs. "Beau, come quick. It's Papa."

            I meet him as he came up the stairwell. He was shaking uncontrollably. His once portly frame had grown thin and frail from lack of food since we had lost everything and moved from the chateau. He stared up at me with wide glassy eyes.

            "Oh Belle, my little angel, I thought I'd never see you again." He reached out to touch me and almost collapsed. I held him up and walked him over to a near by chair.

            "Marie, Clara, bring a coat and some tea! Hurry!" I called. "Oh Papa what's wrong? Why didn't you come home last night?"

            He started to rub his hands together. I put my own around his and felt they were ice cold. I wished Marie and Clara would hurry up. "I'm glad to have made it home at all. Oh it was so terrible."

            "What was terrible, father? What happened?" asked Beau, who had just entered the room. Marie followed behind him, holding a blanket, which she wrapped around Papa. 

            "Clara boiling some water now. Papa, we were worried."

            "I can explain what happen." Papa said now strangely clam. "Call Clara here, I need to tell you all something."

            "Clara, forget the tea, come here quick" Marie shouted. Clara walked into the living room and knelt next to me.

            "I'm afraid this will be the only time I will every see you children again." He reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. He handed it to me. "Take this Belle, for it cost me dearly." I unwrapped it and discovered it was the red rose I had asked for. It was so beautiful, it mast have grown in the care of a master gardener from the look of the rich petals and color of the stem.

            "Papa I don't understand."

            "I will tell you. I was working late last night. I had to move some props up from storage in the cellars. I got lost and some how stumbled upon a lake."

            "A lake?" Beau asked.

            "Yes son, there is a lake underneath the opera. But I discovered before I tried to find my way out a bed of roses, growing from the artificial light from underground by the bank. I knew I would not be able to buy your other gifts that night, but at least I could pick you rose, Belle. I leaned over and picked it up so gently and then a great shadow came over me. It was so horrible. It was a monster, a beast. He towered over me, all dressed in black with eyes like demons."

            Marie and Clara fidgeted with their hands and I could not help but feel a little frighten.

            "But father who was this creature?" I asked

            "I do not know, only that he cursed me for stealing his roses and that I should die to pay for my crime. If not he would hunt me down and kill me and my family. And so I must leave you all tonight, forever."

            Marie pointed a finger at me. "You! This is all your fault."

            Beau stood up. "No, I will find this madman and kill him myself!" he proclaimed

            "That's not possible. You could never find your way through those cellars. He would kill you before you even know he there."

            "You can't be sure of that."

            "Yes, I can. I saw him Beau. He looked like Lucifer himself."

            I just sat there, my rose on my lap gathering all this up. There was some one living in the depths of the opera who wanted my father's life all because of a rose. How could that be possible?

            "But Papa, why would this man want your life just because a rose. Doesn't he want something else? Money? What gain could he have by killing you?"

            He was silent for a longer moment. "Oh Belle, I so wished you hadn't asked that. Yes there was something he wanted, if I can bring myself to even say it." He took a deep breath. "He said he would spare my life if one of my daughter went in my place." 

            I heard Clara and Marie gasp and Beau mouth open in shock. But all I could feel were tears welling up in my eyes. That I had allowed this to happen. I brushed a lock of my unruly hair off my forehead and straighten up.

            "Father, I will go in your place." I said.

            His hand flew to mine. "Oh no, I can not let you. This is no mere man, he is a monster! He would kill you, rape you or worse!"

            "No, Papa. Just let me go, let me talk to him. I'm sure I can change his mind."

            He stood up, letting the blanket fall to his feet. "Belle I won't let you. Yu are staying here. You and your brother and sisters are going to stay here, alive. I want you to grow up and be happy. Let me go, I've lived my life, there is nothing left for me now." He commanded with the esteem of a Roman senator about to commit suicide. He turned to Beau. "Son, you are in charge from now on." My sisters were weeping, and I could not restrain my own tears anymore as they too fell. "Now I need to get my rest if you please. I leave at midnight." He walked with solemn grace towards his bedroom as we all watched him.

            * Not if I can help it Papa *

            Night came quicker than I had expected it. We had all shared a somber meal in which Marie had ended in tears, blaming me for all the trouble and how I could be so cruel and not show any affection to Papa. But I had already made plans, so there was no need to cry. Yes I would miss Papa, but he would not die for me.

            I took an old bag and filled it with a few of my most personal belonging. A small tin flute I had had since I was a child, my sketch book, a few charcoal pencils, my mother's ring on a small strand of cord tied around my neck, my grandmother's crucifix and a copy of Goethe's _Faust _and Moore's _Utopia._ I slipped into the warmest gown I had, trying not to wake my sisters sleeping a few feet away. Beau had not returned from tending his master's horses and my father was still confined to his room, reciting his prayers over and over. I glanced at my rusted old pocket watch that said 11:30. I blew out the candle and wrapped a shawl over my head. It was now or never.

            Carefully I tiptoed out the hall and towards the stair. I glanced back at the house. Seeing the fire dying to its last embers, hearing the cold wind blowing from the cracks in the walls, and the light under my father's door. Yes it wasn't the most pleasant of sights, but in case I never returned I wanted to remember it just the way it was.


	2. The Decent

The Angel and The Phantom

Chapter Two: The Descent  

Belle

            As I made my way through the dark cobblestone streets, I cursed myself for making such a rash decision, since I had really no idea where I was going. I had only visited the opera a few times in my life when my sisters had insisted I come to look for men. I however preferred to listen to the music. But after the tragedy of the crashing chandelier and the mysterious disappearance of a young soprano, my family had avoided coming to the opera, and that was a pity.

            But better me going there now, instead of my father. I finally saw the façade of the opera glowing in the moonlight. I felt the stares of the faces and statues bearing down on me. I glanced up into the gazes of both gods and gargoyles. With my thin nerves and the cold chill of the night suffocating me, they almost seemed alive in the darkness. I felt like a sinner going to my last confession. I slowly mounted the steps as another obstacle came into view. The large door, which was most certainly locked at this time at night.

            Part of me wanted to turn around, leave this nightmare behind. I could go home and forget all this. If Papa was so sure this man was going to kill us, we could all leave, get out of Paris. There was more work in the country anyway. However I wanted to confront this man, show him that at least I was civilized even if he wasn't. He didn't have the right to bully people around. I wanted to do was what my mother would have done. Papa said I always had her spirit, so hopefully my convictions would be strong enough to pull me through this.

            In vain, I put my hand on the door handle and to my surprise it swung open with a loud creak. I jumped back startled but stepped inside anyway. The beauty of the grand foyer was like none I had seen before. Yes the houses and chateaus I had visited no doubt spent more money on their furnishing and decorations but they all appeared so tacky compare to this. The stonework was so exquisite of the decorative carvings of human figures and especially the sculptures of the flowers looked like the mason had captured the Garden of Eden in marble. The floor was a mixture of light and black marble, which glisten like onyx. I could even see myself in the tiles and couldn't resist bending down and examined my reflection more carefully. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a black figure flying across the distorted marble view.

            "Marvelous, isn't it?" a cold cynical voice inquired. I jumped up almost losing my balance. I dropped my bag and my shawl fell off my shoulders. With that, I could feel an icy chill pass through me. I dared to life my eyes up to the stairs where the voice was coming from.

            If the figure standing on the platform had caused the chill to go through me by just his presence, I would not have been surprised. The man seemed to be made of darkness. He was indeed very tall and all dressed in black, with a flowing black cape and wide brim hat. Over his face was a white leather mask, which puzzled me, and underneath the mask a set of glowing eyes. Again I felt that strange shiver around me. Who was this man?

            "The architecture." He stated waiting for an answer. I had almost forgotten his earlier comment so impressed and frighten I was. He seemed in his few words and brief presence, that he already had a commanding power over me."

            "Oh yes, the stonework is… I have never seen such beauty. "I replied.

            "Nor have I." He descended down the stairs, his black cape billowing about his ankles 


	3. Reluctant Reflections

The Angel and the Phantom

Chapter Three

Erik

            As I twisted my way through the winding corridors which where ever so familiar to me, I almost forgot the identity of my new guest. At one point I turned expecting to see Christine standing there with open arms; waiting to come back to me. But instead I saw only a frighten child shivering in the semi-darkness. If she was nervous now, I could only imagine how she would react when we descended into the catacombs.

            I stopped outside Christine's old dressing. The entire corridor had been abandoned for so long that that the dust scattered from the doorknob as I turned it. I took her hand and led her into the room, reflecting on her words

            "Do you need a servant, perhaps I can work off the debt"

            No, I didn't want a servant, or a lover, or a nurse. I wanted no one I just wanted to be left alone. But yet in my zealous anger, I had made a ridiculous request of that frighten idiot, only to serve as a reminder that I was still the true terror of the opera.

            I would have never expected this.

            The room was draped in white sheets, which looked gray from all the dust. The mirror, my passage between the surface and my world below, my only link to Christine I had, was shattered. I leaned against the wall and sighed heavily.

            "The mirror." The girl said. I turned to her forgetting that I had exposed my emotions in front of her. "The broken mirror, it reflects your sad heart sir."

            "A poet Mademoiselle." I whispered harshly 

            "An admirer of them, sir." I stared at her face. How much it was a mask like my own. It was pale and her crystal blue eyes were blank. What once must have been vibrant lips and rosy cheeks had become dull, like the dust-covered sheets. What had been so horrible in this girl's life that cause depression to spread across her face like the sickness of a soul. I gestured for her to come to me, which she did trying not to show any fear.

            "Very perceptive of you. Now if you would please close your eyes." I asked She glanced up at me concerned. I knew what she was thinking, that I would rape here. "Trust me. I will not harm you. Take my word on it. There are just some secrets than cannot be shown." I assured her. While she had no right to trust me, she obeyed. I reached over to the trigger that releases the mechanisms causing the passageway to open. The gears creaked and bits of glass fell onto the floor. I guided her through the mirror and into the hidden chamber between the walls. The cold draft hit us and I felt her shivered beneath my hands. She stopped frighten and opened her eyes. The darkness surrounded us. She flew out of my grasp like a bird discovering itself trapped in a cage.

            "Where are we?" I can't see you."

            "I'm right behind you. Stand still. "I said placing my hands back on her shoulders

            "I'm so cold sir."

            I could feel her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, and I felt like ice. I shrugged off my cloak, throwing it over her. It fell over her small frame and dragged itself along the floor. "Please I need your hand mademoiselle. The passages to my home are dark and dangerous. You could get hurt very easily." She did what she was told and during our journey through the old catwalks and boiler rooms, I observed that her hands were not as delicate as I expected. True they were small and pale like the rest of her, but they were also worn and rough and some places obvious from hard work. Scrubbing and sewing I guessed. But she carried herself like a lady groomed for high society, to marry young and raise children.

            Well damn society. They did nothing for me. What would society care if another person disappeared into the darkness with me? We came to the lake and she glanced shyly about her. She noticed the rose bed growing in between ivy and stone. "The roses how do they grow?" she asked.

            "I found a way to have them grow without sunlight and they gather moisture from the air and the lake. Unorthodox, but effective." I explained, trying not to think of the memories of when I tended the roses to make arrangements for Christine before she performed. 

            "I can see why you treasure them so much. I haven't seen roses like these anywhere in France. Not only are they a work of beauty but also of science." She commented

            "Are you a master gardener as well?" I asked and actually saw her smile slightly. Trying to ignore this I helped her to the boat. She was quite as I rowed the boat through the waters. I could not help myself from looking back at her reflection in the lake. I could see small tears trickle down her face. Such sadness I mused for someone who had been entitled to such privilege in life. We reached the shore, and again I offered my hand to help her step out. She stood up slowly her legs shaking. As she reached for my hand, one of her ankles twisted to the side and she started to fall. I caught her in my arms and removed her straight out of the boat before it started to rock wildly. She looked up at me in shock. "I'm sorry, monsieur. I'm afraid I have rather weak ankles." She tried to back away as if she were cowering from a grave error, but I held her fast least she fall and hurt herself again.

            "No mademoiselle. You have done no wrong. Please let me help you." I pulled her up from the floor and cradled her in my arms entering my home. She was light as a feather and I noticed her extremely thin limbs as I eased her into a chair. She looked as if she would break like an expensive china doll. She sat hands folded looking up at me like a neglected pet. I cleared my throat. "Well I suppose you must be tired or hungry. May I get you anything?"

            "I want to go home." She replied

            I narrowed my eyes. Women, there was no pleasing them. I had at that moment a good mind to drag her back up to the surface and leave her alone on the streets. I instead took her hand yanking up again. I stormed over to the room that use to be Christine's, but decided against it. Perhaps throwing the wretch into the torture chamber for the night would teach her. I threw her down on one of the couches, the cloak failing from her shoulders. She reached to pick it up, but I got there first tossing the garment at her. "This is your home now." I hissed. Turning away I fled to my room locking the door. Locking my own self in the darkness.

            I lay in my coffin staring up into the ceiling. My figures ached from playing. I could hear faint sobbing from behind the door. I knew that while I was playing she had come to the door a pounded on it furiously, but I ignored her. But now I felt compelled to open the door. I almost forgot to put on my mask and rushed back to the organ to slip it back on. To my surprise I saw her there outside my door lying curled up on the floor. Immediately I dropped to my knees and lifted her head. Her face was flushed with red stains from tears yet her neck and forehead felt like ice and were pale as a sheet. She was sleeping, I had no doubt but she continued to cough and sob. I lifted her into my arms, and carried her over to Christine's room. As she coughed, I looked down at my shirt, which was open and saw small stains of blood splatter on my shirt and chest.

            Dear Lord, this girl was very sick. I cursed myself for leaving her curled up outside my down begging for her life, while I tried to find comfort in my music. I set her on the bed, removing my cloak which was she still tried to cling to. Her flimsy gown was soaked with sweat and I tried to avert my eyes from the ample amounts of flesh exposed to them. Quickly I pulled the covers of her. I had kept at least this room in my house clean; I hope that one day it would be used again. But for Christine's return not exactly for saving a young girl's life. I pulled a handkerchief and covered her mouth. I stroked her forehead trying to calm her. I could see the redness of her cheeks and eyes fades, as I brushed the falling tears away with my thumb. Her face was so soft. I was relived when her fit subsided and a healthy peach blush returned to her face.

            "Sleep." I whispered. "Rest." I studied her face as she slowly slipped down towards the pillow in slumber. I realized that instead of a prisoner, I had somehow acquired instead a beautiful angel. That was what this girl reminded me up. I leaned over her face and dared to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head. It was a good thing she was sleeping and for a moment after I could not even believe myself that I had taken advantage of allowing myself that small pleasure. Kissing a women, no an angel. Christine, as much my angel as I wished her, had kissed my once and the forehead, and even in that moment of ecstasy and pleasure, I didn't let myself go to embrace her with all my passion and express my desire.

            So why had I been so compelled to kiss this girl I barley knew? I pulled up a stool beside the bed stand and stared at her as her breathing returned to normal. Running my hands through my hair I ponder over my sudden wave of emotion and care that had just seemed to come out. But not everything in life was meant to be easily explained. I let my hand rest over one of her, noticing that it was in fact her flesh that was warmer than mine.

            * "What is your name?"  *

            * "Belle Catherine du Bumount." *

            Belle that meant beauty, I reflected. It was true. I wanted to wake her and ask her so many questions about her life, her past. I realized my actions were acts of desperation for wanting human contact. Some one to talk to, even to have the presence of another person with me.

            But all I could now was just watch her. Her eyes were closed hopefully in pleasant dreaming. She couldn't see me, so I removed my mask from my steaming hot face. Surly it was not to great a crime for a monster to gaze upon an angel as she slept for see could not see him.

            "Sleep well, ma petit belle." I whispered


	4. Substance

The Angel and the Phantom

Chapter Four: Substance

Belle

            I awoke feeling light headed but at the same time rested and relaxed. I noticed however from the soft white sheets and the cloud-like canopy above my head, that I was in some place different. I sat up to find myself encased in a large bed in a beautifully decorated room, far better than the stone cold floor. It looked like something that belonged in a palace. The furniture consisting of several chairs and a large vanity was painted in shades of pure white and pearl tones. I couldn't be awake, this must be a dream. Yes this must be a dream I convinced myself I was having another one of my fairy tale dreams, in my castle with my Prince Charming. * Nice thought though*

            I couldn't be home, or to the place that I was so rudely kidnapped to. Maybe I had died and gone to heaven. I saw a white dressing gown lying over one of the chairs. It looked warm and inviting compared to my dirty clothes. I went to inspect the gown observing the lace work around the neck and bodice and the long sleeves and flowing skirt. I then noticed the line of brushes and combs on the vanity. I took the liberty of using one to tame my unkempt hair and then noticed other piece of clothing lying over the chair by the dressing gown I had failed to see.

            It was a dress shirt; a male's dress shirt. I picked it up to examine it and then flung it away in horror. There were bloodstains everywhere on the white fabric. Now I knew I wasn't dreaming. I noticed the foreboding door in the corner of the room and realized I was still in his house. But who's blood was that on the shirt? His? Perhaps some unfortunate who had crossed his path?

            I shook my head ashamed. If my imagination kept feeding me these morbid thought, I would end up becoming an author of Gothic horror novel than a lady of society. But as his prisoner I didn't have any hope of doing anything. I turned back to the brush and saw the name "Christine" was engraved on the back of the wooden handle. In fact that name was on all of the grooming accessories and over the mirror frame. Now a mysterious lady into the picture, I mused over. Perhaps this dressing gown was hers too, I thought holding it up against my body. If it was, this Christine was taller than me and mostly like had a perfect figure that I could gather from the shape of the dress. I looked around the room again, was this her room? If it was, someone must have cared for her very much to provide her with such fine things. 

            It certainly couldn't have been him. By his actions, I doubt such a man was capable of kindness and caring. I set aside the gown; it wasn't meant for me anyway. I couldn't see my shawl anywhere in the room, so I decided to step outside to look for it. And perhaps find a way to escape this nightmare.

            I slowly opened the door; just a crack and my ears were greeted by the gorgeous chords of a violin. I had always been captivated by the violin when I was young, but my father had given me a stern mistress who was even upset with my constant reading and harpsichord lessons.

            "Belle, you will never win a good husband playing music and reading books all day." She had said. Stupid old goat, she never figured out why my sewing project took to long to finish. Who wanted to knit when there were pages of literature and art yet to explore? I tiptoed into the room and saw him standing on the opposite corner, his back towards me. The bow of the violin stopped in mid-phrase. So it had been him playing the music. But how could someone so cruel be able to do that? He set the instrument down and turned to stare straight in my direction.

            "There no need to keep hiding. I know you are watching from behind the door." He said coldly.

            Defiant, I stepped out into plain sight. "I just wanted to gather my things so I can…."

            He cut me off. "Go home?"

            I lowered my head. "No." I whispered. I saw my bag and shawl lying on the floor next to an armchair. I bent to gather them. "I just wanted to look more presentable sir." I said. Standing up, I almost ran right into him, discovering he now stood in front of me, towering a foot above my head.      

            "But didn't you see the clothes I put out for you?" he asked.

            "Those were for me?" 

            "Of course, who else here would where such things?" 

            Christine. I knew the answer but he took my hand and led me back into the room. He threw open one of the closet which was full of gowns that resembled the fancy costumes of the opera. "They are all for you." He said, holding a large pink dress full of ruffles and lace.

            "That's very kind of you sir, but I'm not fit to wear those fine things."

            "Oh you may dress like a peasant mademoiselle, but you carry yourself like a noblewoman. Sometimes other things besides words can describe us." As he talked; I went back to the blood stained dress shirt lying on the floor and picked it up as if it were delicate as ash.

            "I can see." I whispered and he turned to see me holding the garment and stopped dead in his tracks.

            "Oh, mademoiselle, you must forgive me. It was- last night you were very sick." He took the shirt from my hand and started to pull me towards the bed. "In fact you shouldn't even be out of bed." 

            I looked at him dumbfounded. "That blood, it was mine?" He nodded. I sat on the bed, starting to feel lightheaded again. Suddenly I felt his hand on my neck, yet it wasn't menacing.

            "If you would allow me, mademoiselle?" he said turning my face to the side with his hands and examining it. I closed my eyes and held back a shudder. Yet it was not one of horror, but surprised and relief. He was not wearing any gloves and his palms were so soft. Softer than

any of the fine fabric I had ever encountered. His fingertips smelt of rich oak, and rosin from the violin as well as fine musk and soap. The scent it was almost intoxicating. He turned my head with his fingers spread across my cheek and his thumb barely touching the corner of my lips. One fingers traced itself beside my eyes, and I actually had to suppress a shudder. Shifting my face again, I finally had the courage to open my eyes and found myself staring into his. Last night, those eyes looked like a creation of hell, dark and blazing with anger, but now they appeared soft and compassionate. Was this the same man, I wondered? The mask was still there, so it had to be. But he seemed different now.

            "Your fever seems to have disappeared, but you should get changed into some new clothes and get more rest." He lifted up a corner of the covers. "I'll bring you some breakfast."

And with that he left. I went to pick up the gown again, ignoring the other fancy trinkets scattered about the room. Slowly I lifted my clothes over my head, my shoulders aching with pain, and then discarding them on the floor. I pulled the gown over my limbs and if felt like a soft wave of warmth over my body. It smelled of lilacs and roses. I went to climb back into bed, waiting for his return. He came back into the bedroom moments later, holding a tray, which had a teapot, cup and saucer and what appeared to be a plate of toast and jam. He was now dressed fully in a tuxedo; minus the fedora and cape he wore last night. His bright eyes seemed to glow from beneath the mask. If it wasn't for that strange accessory to his face, he appeared to be no different from any other gentleman. He set the tray down by the end table beside the bed and handed me the cup. I let my small hands press hard against it, relishing in its warmth before bringing I to my lips. I was surprised to find that it wasn't tea, but something entire unexpected.

            "It's hot chocolate!" I exclaimed. 

            "I'm glad you like it." He whispered softly. 

            "Chocolate's one of my favorite things to drink. Do you make this?" I asked

            He turned his head away as if in slight embarrassment "Why yes I did."

            I leaned over to rest my hand on his, but he looked at me in shock and flinched away. He acted as if he had been burned. I sat there not knowing what to think. Had I offended him, I had only meant to extend my thanks. "Well its very good, thank you."

            He was silent. "I didn't mean to act so rude, you just startled me." He rose to his feet. "I shouldn't bother you anymore. You should eat and get some rest." He started to make his way to the door. I put my cup down and reached out a hand to him.

            "No wait, please don't go!" I called. He turned to me slowly with an odd look on his face. "I would like it very much if you stayed here, just to talk a while." I pleaded

            His eyes now seemed harsher and his frame stiffen as if he was being attacked. "Surely you can not enjoy my company that much, mademoiselle." He said bitterly. "I'll be outside if you wish to come stare at the freak!" And he fled the room, slamming the door hard behind him.

            I sat in the bed in shock for a moment, ignoring my drink and food. Soon I heard the thunderous strains of the organ. I felt something wet fall from my cheek and was surprised to discover I was crying. I was weeping in pain for a man I barely knew. How could he act as kind as a prince one moment and behave like a monster the next? And yet my heart bled for him as he played his mournful song. I wrapped myself up in the warm sheets and cried into them, even though mentally my mind was demanding me to stop. I felt so foolish, so below him. I had come to look past this cruel abduction to realize this stranger had taken me into his home. He had spared my father's life, and had not done anything harmful to me in return. He had even taken care of me in my illness cause by my childish fit and stubbornness. And I all could pretend to do was be happy and pester him to let me go home. No wonder he hated me. I sighed and looked again at the mirror and table, which had, must have been at one time filled with flowers and jewelry. Now there were only the few scattered remnants of an unsuccessful love affair. No he wasn't happy here and neither was I.

            But then again, I thought. I've seldom been happy anywhere. 


	5. Beauty In All

The Angel and the Phantom

Chapter Five: Beauty in all its Forms

Belle

            My hands came in contact with something grainy and it crackled loudly when I touched it.  My eyes ached as I opened them. Lord, I must have fallen asleep again, I thought. I finally saw what it was in front of me; a piece of paper already crumpled my unconscious tampering. I propped myself up on one elbow, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face before noticing there was writing on the paper. I started to read.

            Mademoiselle,

            I am obliged to inform you that anything in my home is for your amusement. The books, the flowers in the drawing room and other forms of entertainment around this house. You may even take a stroll along the lake outside. You are the mistress here now. I shall be back this evening to prepare you dinner. Enjoy your stay here. I'm at your service. 

            -E.

            "I wonder what 'E' stands for?" I asked out loud. I was puzzled, was I to understand that he was giving me run of the house? I managed to pull myself out of bed, and brushed my hair again before steeping outside my room. I began to explore the central room to see what it had in store. The place was built around a collection of ornate couches and armchairs set on Persian carpets. A fire had been lit in the hearth and I wondered how he had managed to install heat, and water here underground. Still it made the whole space feel warm and comfortable. I noticed the wooden table and severing bar at the far end of the room. There was an array of doors on all corners of the room. I went to try them all but three locked. I glance out the door, which lead out of the house, seeing only foggy darkness, and hearing water drip from the ceiling like a cave. He didn't need to lock this door, for I couldn't find my way off of this place if I tried. So I turned my attention to the other doors. One led to a room full of antique furniture. The lighting was dim, and the furniture looked dark and dusty. While the style of the pieces was interesting the room looked like it served no real purpose in the house. I shut the door and decided to look at the shelves of books stacked around the fireplace. I browse through the titles. Each book was bound in red and brown leathers, with gold imprinted titles. The works of Shakespeare, the classics of French literature Hugo and Dumas and even the latest science fiction novel from English writer H.G. Wells "The Invisible Man". Since that caught my eye, I picked it up curled on one of the couches in the main pallor and began to read. 

            I tried to put aside all me worries that filled my mind and concentrate on reading the story, but I couldn't. My mysterious host, his actions his words danced about in my brain. Even though he was not here, I could not escape him. And I had the feeling I never would be able to keep him from my thoughts. What was happening to me? That a strange could have such and impact on me.

 The words on the pages focused and then blurred in my sight. After managing to get through about twenty pages, I decided to stop for a moment and I stared at the roaring fire. The flames danced hypnotically. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and I wondered what time of the day it was. Being walled up here brought back unpleasant memories of when my family once lived in the château. I would sometimes saw shut in my own room for hours at a time. If my sisters had other girls over, they made sport of teasing me because of my behavior. I kept myself shut away to avoid their torments. The names they called me… I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Then I felt hand rest upon my shoulder. Startled I jumped and then saw something land beside me. It was sheet music. I turned to see him standing behind me.       

            "Sorry I didn't mean to frighten you." He said reaching down fro the music he dropped, but I had already started to read it. He noticed this and instead handed it to me. "Do you read music?" he asked. I nodded. "Do you know this piece then?" he inquired. I read that it was something by Bach but the title was not familiar.

            "I can't tell by the title really." I replied.

            "Well then come I can play it for you." He said holding out his hand. Hesitatingly I took it. "So how is the book?" he asked. I almost forgot I had been reading. 

"It's interesting so far, but I didn't get a chance to read much." He led me away from the couch and to the room with the furniture I had seen earlier. I felt nervous and my hand started to shake. He stopped in the front of the door and looked at me concerned. He had traded his all black attire for a gentleman suit touched up with shades of gray. He brushed off my gesture of fear just as quickly as he observed it. He opened the door and when to turn on the gas lamp. I waited in the doorway until the room, was illumined.  I didn't realize it before but the room was actually cleaned. Practically spotless as I stepped onto the polished mahogany floors. There were several small chairs of white and cream tones, a love seat, a mantle and a quaint harpsichord, which he took a seat at. Opening the keyboard he spread the music over the stand, his fingers flexed in front of him. I watched him in fascination moving towards him.

            "Please have a seat." He said pointing to a chair. I did my eyes still wandering around the room. I noticed even the picture frames matched the color and style of everything. But there was something else. Every frame was empty. They're where only black pieces of paper where photos were suppose to be. It seemed so sad, and I sat and stared at the empty frames on the mantle while he started to play. I closed my eyes and listened. The notes seemed to float around the room, touching each piece of furniture and echoing back into my ears. I dared to glance over as he skillfully ran his long digits across the keys. His hands how could they play such beautiful music that was like the angel's, and yet be human hands. Simple ones like mine. I felt inferior in his presence. He stopped mid-way through the piece and looked at me. 

            "I'm sorry you must be hungry. I should get you dinner instead of amusing myself with music." He got up to leave, but I stood up in protest.

            "No please, don't stop…" I caught a lump in my throat but forced it back. " Playing, I mean. Don't stop your playing. I enjoy it very much. I wish I had learned to play like that. Did you take lessons?" I asked

            He gathered up his music and under the shadow of the mask I could see a small smile. "No I taught myself to play." He replied.

            "Really, that' wonderful. You make some of today's talent look like amateurs." I said walking to the instrument. I let my hands run across the lid and down towards the keys. With out knowing where my control had gone, I sat down and started to tinker out a small melody that came to mind. He stood back and watched me for a moment and I felt the pressure of him judging me weigh upon my back. I slipped and hit a foul note, but instead of getting disappointed I decided to laugh at it instead. "See what I mean?"

            He reached over a hand and his long fingers curled around mine trapping them in a prison. "No, that was quite lovely." He said. "And thank you, that was the highest compliment anyone has ever paid me." I got to my feet trying not to blush. He was so close to me and his scent again creped up to my nostrils.

            "So I take it you are not used to accepting compliments?" I noted.

            He titled his head slightly. "I can tell you aren't either, mademoiselle." Again I blushed. I was certain he noticed and turned away but continued to address me. "I was wondering what would you like to have dinner with me?" The growl from my stomach could have answered his questions; I still didn't know what time it was.

            "Certainly. When will it be ready?"

            "Actually it all set on the table right now. I made it while you where reading. You must have been really into that book or something else."

            I turned my gaze back to the empty picture frames. "Yes, something else I muttered. My fingers traced over one, but I felt him walk beside me. I faced him as he held the music in one hand and offered me his other arm. 

            "Shall we?" I let my hand slip under his arm as he escorted me out. Indeed the dinning room table was already arranged with food. True it was no royal banquet but I was filled with food everywhere. Assortments of breads, meats, chesses and to my delight even bowls of fruit scattered about in the middle of the table. He handed me a wooden plate. "I don't entertain much company so I hope this is to your liking. Please help yourself"

            I nodded to him and went gathering food on my plate like a starving person. I picked out two rye rolls, several pieces of chopped ham in medium sized cubes. Then came the task of selecting what fruit to have, he had placed out a handful of each, all my favorites. Apples, grapes, oranges and even a small bowl of strawberries floating in cream and sprinkled with sugar. I finally settled on an orange. After having my fill, I took a seat at the opposite end of the table. 

            Dinner had begun.

A/N: I'm not sure what exactly what fruits are available in Paris in winter, to confess. But Erik is a man of many tricks and surprises. 


	6. A Dinner of Questions

 Chapter Six

A Dinner of Questions

Erik

            I watched my dinner guest as she started to eat. Her dainty hands flew to one side to cut a slice of butter and then to the other to spread in onto her roll. She must have had experience with cooking before. I had placed before her setting several cups with a variety of beverages such water, hot tea, milk and some chardonnay from my personal collection. It came as no surprise to me when she did not sample the wine. She still didn't trust me and the poor creature was trying her damnest not to act as if she were afraid of me.

            But I could tell she was. She trembled in fear at my very presence, and even when I was away, she would still worry every moment I was gone. It would be a long struggle to gain her trust, I could tell. With Christine it had been different. She had heard my voice, her angel's voice and thought I could do no wrong. I wasn't until later; I revealed my true nature to her. After she had torn away my mask, exposing my horrid face and shattering her innocence forever. So imagined what my new guests myself have felt, to have "the demon of the cellars" as I was now affectionately called by the new employees who never knew me as the Phantom, drag her to his lair. I was keeping her locked in this dark prison that would never have the appearance of a normal home despite my best efforts.

            If she didn't trust me by now, she never would. And I couldn't blame her.

            And my pondering brought me to any other question in my mind. And that was what did she think of me. In particular what did she think the purpose of my mask was she had not asked yet, unlike Christine did. Did she think I was a dangerous criminal hiding my identity or that I truly was a demon disusing my hellish form in the shape of a man? Both of the statements did still have a ring of truth to them however. Even as she peeled her orange with delicate movements of her wrist, she watched me carefully as I sipped my wine.

            "So mademoiselle, you haven't said very much about yourself. Would you give me the pleasure of hearing about you and your past." I asked causally. I wasn't trying be sociable. I wanted the facts, that's all. She set down her orange and looked at me.

            "Well sir what would you like to know. I'm sure it could not be that interesting."

She was trying to sound polite but I could detect the tone of cold annoyance in her words.

            "Simple things are an odd way of amusing me, mademoiselle. Are you from Paris originally?"

            "Not exactly. We lived…my family lived in a château in a town about an hour away from Paris. My father was a merchant trader. We where once the typical aristocrat family you could say." She paused picked up her orange and took a small bite, swallowing it quickly. "But I hated it honestly."

            Interesting I thought, toying with the folds of the napkin in my lap. " I didn't like being judged by how proper or how much money your family made. My mother died giving birth to my twin brother and me. I was raised by governesses my entire life. My father was always working on his trade. My older brothers were already away at colleges and my sisters were too busy. With parties and suitors. I found it all so dull. Socializing was never amusing to me."

            I pushed at a roll on my plate, I didn't have the appetite and I found myself wrapped up in her words. "Never heard of a noble lady of France confessing such things. Why did this life of wealth and pleasure bore you?"

            She lowered her head and brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. With her bright hair and white dressing gown she had finally changed into, she looked like she had stepped out of a Renaissance painting. "Well, I didn't like being stared at. It sounds ridiculous but I couldn't stand being at the crowed parties and all those eyes watching you. Men judging whether you would make a good wife. Ladies deciding if they should be jealous or not by the way you look. I wanted to ran away to my room and lock myself away from all those eyes. I don't believe anyone should have to suffer judgment of society like that, whether they are a king or a beggar. It's just not right!" She pressed her palms against the table, her breath coming in short gasps from the energy she used in her speech. I could see tears of anger about to pour from her eyes, but she held them back. 

            And to my surprise I discovered I was holding my own tears back as well. Her words had struck a chord with me. I knew exactly how she felt, but not only that she had opened to door to a new way of looking at the same pain I had suffered my entire life. I was always judged because of my face, I was different when I was expected to be normal, yet she was judged to even higher standards as others expected her to be perfect when she just wanted to be like everybody else. We both wanted to be that. I could tell by the way she had acted, how she had talked, that she was a free spirit desperate to break free of the oppression that shackled her, as was I. Trying not to let me voice shake, I whispered to her softly. "Mademoiselle I know exactly how you feel. You are right, judgment is a trait humanity abuses frequently."

            "Yes, I had been reading some of  'Utopia', and if we could all learn to live in a society as Moore described, none of us would ever have to worry about that." She said, trying to smile.

            I nodded my head. "I take it you enjoy books Mademoiselle?"  

            Her eyelashes flattered and she blushed as if I had spoken the name of her lover. "Sir, indeed I do. You could say I'm addicted to the written word. I loved to read, I could spend hours at a time in my room surround by books. I read most of the ones in my family's library and my father pampered me with more. When the aspects of being a noble woman bore down on me, I'd just turn to my books, and I loved to write, and draw, and play music." Her voice had taken a light airy tone as she explained her true passion. "But I don't have so much time for that now."

            "And why is that?"

            "My family fell on some hard times about a year ago. My father's ships were attacked by pirates who lost them and all the goods they carried in a storm. Many of his backers pulled out of his trade company and he lost the business. We had to leave the château and moved to Paris. My father and my twin brother have been working to pay the rent, and I've had the job of taking care of the house and my sisters." Again her mood turned somber. "  I hope they are all right…I" she choked on her words and I saw the tears start to flow freely down her face.  God, if she would let me wipe the tears from her eyes with my bare hands, to let me try and erase the sorrow in this child's life and bring her comfort "I'm sorry, please excuse me." She whispered and left the table fleeing towards her room. I ran on impulse to stop her, catching her arms before she could reach the door. "No stop. Sir I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want anyone…" I spun her around into my arms, making her face me.

            "Mademoiselle, I will not judge you. I do not care if you cry. I will think no least of you." And with that she buried her head into my chest and sobbed uncontrollably. I held her tight in my arms feeling her body heave. Stroking her hair, the voices of reason and want bickered in my brain. Part of me wanted to keep her with me. I could offer her a new life, free from obligations. We could have our music, art and our stories, to share like kindred spirits. We could even leave Paris; leave France forever, following our dreams like the wind. While the other half of my screamed to stop this foolishness. Let the girl go so she could return to her family and her old life, harsh as it may be. I was destined forever to remain her in the darkness. I could never have a lover or even a friend. Damn it all, it wasn't fair! I let my fingers massage her neck gently, but I wanted to do more. I wanted to kiss away here tears but I feared she would abhor me if I dared show any sign of affection. She started to loosen my grip on her and pulled away. I withdrew a small handkerchief from my suit pocket and held it under her eye. "For you." I said softly. She noticed my gesture, reached up one of her hands to rest over my own and grasped the handkerchief. The she let me guide our hands to wipe away her salty tears. I was amazed. She was letting me touch her face with my bare hand willingly. The finest satin of a queen's robe could not compare to the softness of her healthy cheek as the back of my knuckled brushed against it. I was speechless.

            She took a step back away from me and gave a small smile. "Thank you" she whispered her eyes still red-rimmed.

            "You are very welcome, mademoiselle." I managed to reply. Thank me? What had I done to deserve her thanks? I was keeping her prisoner with me, I frightened her, and I even made her cry. The most boldest of my actions, I had touched her in a manner for such a monster as I was that was inappropriate.

            She glanced around the room and sighed. "I'm sorry for making such a spectacle of myself. I think I should retire for the rest of the evening.

            "I believe I would concur with that decision." I moved back tot the table to fetch her plate of food. "You make take a book if you like." I suggested. She moved to the shelves near the mantel and selected another title. Then she stood gazing at the fireplace until I came beside her. I noticed to the book she had chosen. "European Folklore and Fairy Tales". I forgot I had that in my collection. She took the plate of food from my hand and started to walk towards the bedroom. I feared that she would leave me without a word, but she stopped and then face me.

            "Thank you again sir." She whispered. "You have done so much here to make me comfortable, but could I be so bold as to ask for two more favors from you?"

            I bowed my head "What do you wish?"

            "Sir, what is your name?"

            I was uncomfortable for a moment before I decided there was no real harm to her request. "My name is Erik."

            "Erik" she breathed letting my name roll off her lips. "May I call you that?"

            "Of course, and what was your second favor?"

            "Calling me mademoiselle, sound so dreadfully formal. Please call me Belle if you would."

            "As you wish."

            "Well then goodnight Erik." She whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Then she shut the door, but I did not hear the lock close.

            "Goodnight, Belle." I whispered. I noticed my hand was shaking and I tried to steady it. Why was I acting this way? I shouldn't be caring so much about her; it would only lead to destruction, either her's or mine. I moved to walk away until I heard her sobbing again. I pressed my ear to the door and I felt as if I could actually see her, lying on the bed, shaking with tears and oppression.

            "Oh Papa…." She moaned. "I miss you…so much." I felt like my heart was going to be torn to piece. I had cause so much pain for her. So much. I fell to my knees, leaning my head against the door, and sat for a long time very still.

            Break free, my angel and let me break with you. Still clasping the handkerchief in my hand, I brought it to my face smelling her scent as if I could capture her very essences in it. Nothing. It was hopeless now, I should just give up. I gave a long mournfully sigh, praying to God she did not hear me.

            "Fairy tales."

A/N: I'm so depressing. Goodness well I wasn't also in the best of my moods when I wrote this. So sorry. But things will get better before they get worst, I promise. Belle gets to hear Erik sing in the next chapter so hang on to your seats sports fans.  

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	7. Unfilled Spirits and Strange Desires

Chapter Seven

Unfilled Spirits and Strange Desires

Belle

            That night, I dreamt about hands, Erik's hands. True, it was unheard of for a lady to think such things, for it was feared by every mother that such wandering could lead to "unholy fantasies of men's unmentionable parts" as I had once heard them described. But in my dreams, his hands were not the least bit forceful or sexual, not the way I thought of them. They were majestic and fascinating, and dare I say even romantic in their own way. I saw Erik standing there, his hands reaching out to my face. Those strong fingers that played the piano and violin, oh how I wished those fingers would touch my face again and massage my back. He came very close to me; I could feel his breath on my lips and around my ears, so warm.

            "Hold still for me…" he instructed in a husky whisper. His mouth only inches away from my own. "Very still…for me." Then he kissed me. Again it was gentle, his soft yet firm lips just grazing mine. For me. Yes, Erik let me be for you, only for you.

            A sudden jerk in my body forced me to wakefulness as I shot straight up from the pillows. I turned to see my crimson reflection in the mirror and hid my face in shame as if I were being watched. What in the world was I thinking? I barely knew this man and already I was having romantic fantasies about him. I didn't even know what he looked like, at least his appearance under his mask. I slumped over to the closet edger to get some fresh clothes. I was sick of sleeping, and I hated being bored. I had to find something to do today. I picked out a dress of a pale purple shade that was simple enough while still being elegant. I felt the girlish urge to spend all morning trying on all the dresses in the closet. Matching them with the jewelry and scarves I had found in the drawer, and sampling the perfumes. But inwardly I shook with laughter at the notion. If I had behaved like any other women, a man leaving me with such material goods to suite my tastes and pleasures would have enthralled me, but I was an awkward girl who could not be wooed by such things.

            Instead of pretty dresses, I would want my lover to curl up next to the fireplace with me, to enjoy a book together or recite poetry allowed. I would want him to play the piano for me and take me to the opera, and we would have long conversations about art, music and philosophy. I sighed fastening the gown around my waist. That would never happen to me, since I had known no man in my life that took interest in such things. 

            Until now. Until Erik.

            I heard a faint sound from outside my room. Quickly pinning my hair back into a neat bun, I ventured outside my room to see where the sound way coming from. As I approached the door, I could hear the sound growing louder and more melodic. It was a song, someone was singing. I pushed the door open slowly and I saw Erik leaning over the mantel, a fire started in a small-enclosed furnace where an open flame would have been in a normal fireplace. Facing away from me, he held an open book in his hand limply and he gazed at the wall. And he was singing!

            A simple melody yet his smooth tender voice made it sound like a masterpiece only fit for angels to sing or hear. I could not make out any words and I wondered if he were singing a requiem or a love song. Erik's voice could have made it sound either or both at the same time and still let it be beautiful. I clung to the doorframe letting my body relax, but in actually I was holding myself up as my knees had started to grow weak and shift beneath my weight. His voice amazed me, just as his playing on the harpsichord had done. He made some of the finest vocalist in Europe look like fumbling choirboys. Surprised that he was not a professional musician I felt a small sense of secluded pride of being privileged to hear him. Moving on tiptoe to lean upon the chair behind him, I realized I recognized the melody. It was a French folksong that I vaguely remembered from my childhood. After already hearing him sing the main phrase I was possessed to sing with him, and I did. 

            I let my mouth open and started to vocalize with him, small and cracking at first. I put my entire effort to make my fledging vocal chords sound as smooth and melodic as his. He turned to see me there and stopped singing for a while, looking at me in shock. Perhaps appalled at my minimal talent. But then he closed his eyes and started to sing again. Our voices floated over the room and blew past my ears. It was magical. It was like the master and the student, or the angel and the mortal. I in turned closed my eyes, wishing he would come to me, hold my hand while we sung. We repeated the song, twice then three times. I wanted it never to end. It was like that wonderful feelings that we treasure. It was like when my father told me he was proud of me or when my brothers gave me a pony for my birthday which I used to ride in the woods all day long. All those treasured memories resurfaced in my mind in that moment and I wanted it never to end.

            "Mademoiselle, is there nothing you can not do?" Erik asked. I abruptly stopped singing and opened my eyes at the sound of his questioning voice. I tried to without bringing attention to myself, touch my face to make sure I wasn't blushing. I was, discovering my cheek warm as I brushed a lock of hair away from it. Then I realized I hadn't answered his question.

            "I'm not sure exactly what you mean." I replied

            "It's simple. Apparently you are already an accomplished lady of society, as well as being a lover of books and the arts. And now you reveal another of you amazing talents. Your voice is very beautiful. You did not tell me you could sing."

             I could not believe my ears. He was giving praises to me. But is was him that had worked the mysterious miracles so far. "Erik, perhaps you should direct your flattery else where. It is yourself that has the superb voice between to two of us. To be bluntly, it is simply astounding. You deserve the praise and the credit." He looked shyly at me and bowed his head

              "You honor me mademoiselle."

              "Please, I asked you to call me Belle."

               He nodded. " Very well, Belle then. Did you know that song?"

               I traced my finger around the material of the sofa. "I've heard it before, but I can't think of its name. I believe it a lullaby of some sort."

               "You would be correct, it is a French lullaby." Intrigued of why he had decided to sing that, I asked him.

                "Why decide you to sing that piece then. Did your mother use to sing it to you as a child?" I questioned innocently hoping to open up a dialogue. His frame stiffened and he turned to glare at me with burning eyes. I hadn't seen him this angry since the night he first brought me here. His fists started to tighten at his side and I flinched back for fear that he would strike me.

                 "Hardly." He hissed. I wanted to pushed my back against the couch trying to get away from him, but I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run back into my room, and the other watched him in dumb horror. But knowing he would with ease be able to stop me if I tried to make any escape, I remained still. Finally he gave a grunt of rage and threw down the book he had been holding. He started to stalk away, but I desperately called to him.

            "Please don't leave. If I have offended you in any way, I'm sorry." I gripped the edge of my chair tightly, praying for him to turn around. "If there is anything I can do…" I attempted to offer. Please see me, I begged in my mind. I need someone to talk to. I can see that you do too. Please let us be there for each other. He began to face me slowly and I sat there is anticipation waiting for his answer.

Erik

            "If there is anything I can do?" her offer echoed in my brain stirring up memories. Words of the past, words I had spoken myself.

            "Love me and you shall see. If you loved me I would be as gentle as a lamb and you could do anything you wished with me."

            I cringed. Christine was gone, I told myself, gone forever with her precious Vitcomte. And God and fate had seen it truly fit to leave me with another woman who could never learn to love me. Why bother anymore? But I stopped something told me to look in her eyes. I saw there so much compassion. She looked like a lost kitten, desperate for someone to find her and care for her. I could do that for her, but would she let me? She looked so beautiful standing before me. The color of her gown brought out the healthy glow of her face and small straight locks of blond hair crisscrossed over her forehead. She had let one of her hands reach out ever so slightly as if she where reaching for me. I felt overwhelmed, I want to go to her encase her hand in mind and cover it with kisses. Those fragile hands that had been through so much. Madness I knew, but I didn't care.

            I found my voice finally. "Would you allow me to play for you again? If you wished." I asked.

            Her eyes lit up and she stood to her feet. "Oh I do very much." She came towards me and I felt embarrassed for my unbecoming attire. I only had my shirt and pants on, with a dressing robe thrown over them, but she didn't seem to take notice. She held my arm, like a child wanting a parent's affection. "I love- enjoy it very much when you play your music." I noticed her slip of tongue and stopped myself from smiling.

            "Perhaps I could play you something of my own composition?' I suggested. She nodded enthusiastically. "Well then, if you would excuse me for a moment." I slipped away from her grasp and headed for my chambers. What was I doing? I hadn't even played my Don Juan for anyone else, I even denied Christine's request to hear it. And here I was revealing my most private self to a stranger. Grabbing my music from the organ, I rushed back out to her. As I straighten my music, I noticed a more energetic movement in my step. I was actually excited. Could it be because of her? I stopped outside my door needing to catch my breath.

             I had never felt this way before. I felt so…alive.

            But it wasn't love, at least none I had ever experienced before. With Christine yes I felt euphoric, but also the need to be cautious, but now I felt like I didn't need to care anymore. I could be myself, for once. Straightening myself to look more presentably; I strolled back into the living room. She greeted me with a smile and then turned her attention to the large stack of music in my arms.

            "Did you write all that?" she asked in amazement.

            "Yes" I said nodding "It's my own opera."

            Looking impressed she stretch out her arms to me. "May I look at some of it?"

            "Certainly" I replied setting the score down on a nearby table. She went to rummage through it, and I walk to the other side of the room to retrieve my violin. My fingers were shaking as I applied rosin to the bow, and my brain shouted for my to calm myself. I was performing into front of a sea of critics. I had no need to be nervous. I thought. Nervous, so this is how it feels. Dreadful really. "I thought I would play a violin solo if you wished." I whispered, petting the instrument's smooth wood surface.

            She smiled again, and I had a sudden feeling of warmth inside me. I prayed that my body's conflicting, almost bipolar emotions would not interfere with my playing. Still it was a marvelous feeling to be appreciated, and not feared. "I would enjoy that very much Erik."

            Erik, my name. Not Angel, nor ghost, or demon or monster. Just Erik.

            "All right then." I said tucking the base under my chin. "Hears how it sounds."

A/N: I like to say thank you to all my wonderfully reviews I've gotten so far. Your encouragement has help a great deal. Thank you all. More excitement to follow in 

Chapter Eight: Dangers Untold


	8. Dangers Untold

Chapter Eight

Dangers Untold

Erik

        Perhaps I was just coming closer to paradise. I could almost feel it in the air around me. That's how I felt when Belle was with me. Weeks pasted by, and we spent most day with me playing my Don Juan and other things to her. She would sit in the Louis-Philippe room and listen to me play for hours. I would glance over and see her relaxing on the divan, her eyes closed. So much like an angel. She explained that she liked to close her eyes and imagine pictures or stories when I played. I reflected on those images she had recalled.

        "When you play 'Don Juan' I see so many things inside my head Erik. It's like a kaleidoscope. Sometimes I see a grassy field at nighttime, or I see an empty hall in a deserted palace." She described one day

        "What else do you see?" I asked intrigued 

        She sat up on her knees twirling a piece of her hair in her fingers. "Well I actually see ghosts. They look like people but I can see right through them, and they are always dancing or singing."

        She certainly had an active imagination, but I never grew tired of her stories. She even looked at some of the lyrics I had written for my unfinished libretto and made suggestions for them, even rewriting some of them herself. She could become a gifted writer one day. During our time together we would share long conversations about politics, or literature over dinner. I felt myself able to be more open with her than I had with any one else. Before I had been so reserved not letting any one get to close, but now I felt changed. I left her a present in her room every morning and I continued to shower her with gifts, even though she had repeatedly told me she enjoyed my company better than any gift. Yet I had not been so blind not to notice she put out my roses by her bedside and wore the hair combs with pictures of doves carved into them almost every day. But I really gave her surprised when I return one evening with a simple square package wrapped in plain brown paper. She had been sitting in front of the mantel while a small fire blazed. She looked both intelligent and beautiful and I though of her as the Greek goddess Athena, or perhaps she was more like the heroine Psyche. She sat there sketching with charcoal, one of her frequent actives.

        "Hello Erik how was your day?" she asked, motioning for me to come sit next to her. I shrugged off my cloak and sat down, hiding my present from her sight.

        "It was a day, no much to say about it." I replied nonchalantly.

        She grinned and then noticed I was holding my hands behind back. "What do you have there?" she asked.

        I felt sly. "Oh it nothing you would be interested in. Just some book I picked up." She tucked in her lower lip and looked mischievously at me. Then she lunged at me, pushing me backward on the couch. She playfully tried to tickle me, but I managed to keep out of her reach.

 "Erik, just let me see it!" she begged. I handed it to her and she opened it. In amazement she looked at the title of the book.

 "For you." I had bought her a copy of the "Greatest Works of Greek Philosophers" hoping she would have an interest in it. She flipped through the pages in silence for a moment her mouth open in awe. "I hope you like it." Suddenly I felt her arms around my neck and she embraced me tightly. I was stunned but slowly let my torso and limbs relax enfolding her in my arms.

"Oh thank you! This is the best present ever!" she exclaimed. We held each other for a while; I was more overcome with by joy than she was. All that night we discussed Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" and later she requested me to read out loud sonnets and poems of Homer. It wasn't until later I had noticed she had fallen asleep, her head resting on my shoulder. I allowed myself to stroke her soft hair, feeling it's marvelous texture flowing through my fingers. I carried her to the bedroom, letting her rest in a more comfortable and fitting place to sleep. Paradise.

How soon it would quickly end.

I had discovered that while my company was welcomed, Belle was more than capable of entertaining herself. Some days we would not see each other until dinner. But it didn't bother me too much; it gave us time to be alone. There were some things in both our lives especially mine that were meant to be private. One afternoon, I was in my chambers working at organ. I felt like I needed to change some of the pieces of Don Juan give them a different mood. I was a duet and I wanted for the both of us to sing it later. I forgot that I had not locked the door. When I paused, I heard the door creak open very loudly. I turned quickly on the bench to face it, a hand naturally flying to my face to check my mask. Belle stood in the doorway looking confused and embarrassed as if she didn't mean to push the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked shocked

She played with her hands and kept her head lowered. "I wanted to hear you play. May I come in?"

I glanced around the room. "I rather wish you wouldn't." I confessed

"But please. I haven't seen you play the organ before." She pleaded. The room wasn't lit very brightly only a few candles illumining the organ and the music stand. My coffin bed, torn curtains and other ghastly attire of my lair where under the safe cover of darkness. I walked to her and took her hand leading her inside. She tried to see through the darkness and her eyes darted in a frighten anxiety.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." She said with a slight stammer. I could tell she was lying and immediately regretted her decision. I shouldn't have let her in, I should have just asked her politely to leave, deny her reason to enter. But it was too late now. I offered her a seat on the far corner of the bench and then sat back down. "What where you playing Erik?"

"One of the duets." I replied. "Would you like to hear some?" I wanted to satisfy her request only so much so she would feel content and leave. She nodded in agreement and I took off playing the thunderous entrance to the songs. I felt trapped enclosed as if the chords issuing form the organ were shaking the very walls. She watched my every moment, still mesmerized. With an uncertain vibrato in my voice I started on the opening phrase of lyrics bringing the accompaniment to a dull mezzo piano. 

"The fairest rose of Eden vine

Cannot compare to you.

My heart overflowth

By the mercy of your hands

Fill me with your love

Fill me with your love"

            It was a love song, one that Belle had created new lyrics for. A love song, but it was tainted for in the score Don Juan was singing it to woo one of his conquests. It was a song of lust and seduction. My fingers started to shake and I stopped not daring to start and I stopped playing not daring to start the next phrase, the female solo. Then I noticed that Belle had moved closer to me on the bench, our shoulders touching. She was so warm and I thought how soft her skin must feel beneath her gown. Immediately I ordered myself to stop such lustful desires before they caused me to lose control. 

            But she started to move closer. She reached a hand in front of my face, placing it on the music. She moved forward to read it, her hair inches under my nose. I breathed in her scent, intoxicated. She turned to face me her crystal blue eyes sparkling at me, her pale pink lips parted slightly. She looked so inviting.

            "When a woman has seen me as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever. I am a kind of Don Juan, you know?"

            Again the hideous words of my past haunted me. I saw this innocent girl turn into Christine before my eyes, my unfortunate tormenter. She starred at me curious and puzzled, as is she had no clue how she was effecting me. Possessed by my willing desire, I embraced her in my arms, letting her torso and head lean back. She gave a small gasp but did not protest. She lifted a hand to touch my neck and the bottom side of my face. "Erik?" she asked

            "Forgive me." I breathed. Then leaning slowly down, I pressed my lips gently on her left cheek. I savored the warm soft feeling of her flesh against mine and I tried to keep myself from shaking. After a few seconds, I knew I should have pulled away, but instead I pressed harder, breathing her in. She didn't stop me.

            Then suddenly I felt a pair of fingers slip under my mask that were not my own! I felt my mask start to lift off my face. I opened my eyes in horror to see Belle trying to peer through the darkness to make out my features. My impulses took over and I shoved her away from me, simultaneously moving backward into the darkness. She lost her balance and fell off the bench, landing hard on the floor. My hands fumbled to tie my mask but no my face. She gave me a look of shock, but I could only feel was anger and betrayal. She tried to pull herself up, and I could see a small bruise forming on her arm. "I just wanted to see…" she pleaded.

            My mask was now finally secured to my face, and I prayed that she didn't see even a glance of my disfigurements. I backed away further into the darkness, my arms folded across my chest. "You will never know." I growled deep in my throat.

            She stretched her arms to me tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

            "Sorry? You are sorry?" I challenged. "You have no idea…" I lost myself. I ran towards the organ and slammed my fists on it, letting sour notes issue forth. "Get out!" I shouted. Candles rolled from the organ, onto to the floor. Her eyes followed in horror and the candles spun and illumined parts of the room. The dreadful coffin that lay in the corner now flickered into sight. She gasped and sobbed, finally getting to her feet and running to the door. The echoing of those footsteps and the sound of her sobs torn my heart in pieces. I fell to my knees and curled up on the floor. What had I done? I lay there for endless moments. I would never forget the sound of her tears, just when I promised I would never want to see her shed tears again.

            But it wasn't to compare with the sound of the cold splash I heard minutes later. I rushed to my feet and ran out. That sound had come from the lake. Damn me, what had I done now to compound my error? I came to the edge of the lake; the coldness of the water was even in the air itself. I glanced around for her, calling her name into the darkness. Then I noticed a splash of color in the darkness and then I saw here. Before she sank under the water. 

            I drove into the dark depths, the icy cold water stingy my body like a thousand knives. But I paid no heed to it. I only prayed I could reach her in time.               


	9. The Dreams and the Reasons

The Angel and the Phantom

Chapter Nine

The Dreams and the Reasons

Belle

            I found myself in a garden, a beautiful garden. The buds of the roses bushes tickled my fingertips and cherry blossoms fell from the trees into my hair. I looked up saw and felt the sun warming my face. The gown I was wearing flowed in the breeze around my wrists and ankles. I looked down in delight to see it was a dress fit for a princess, all made with pink satin. I pushed my way through the branches and the bushes of the garden until I noticed the figure of a man before me. His back was turned and yet I could make out he was very tall, with black flowing hair dressed in a dark military suit. He slowly turned to me and my heart skipped a beat in my chest.

            It was Erik. Light poured from behind him and the most handsome smile was across his lips. He reached out a hand beckoning me forward. "Come mon ange." He called in a low whisper. I was overjoyed at the sound of his voice and I wanted to run into his arms and stay there forever. I went to move towards him, my step full of reckless abandonment.

            "Maestro!" a voice called. I turned to glance beside me. That voice wasn't mine. It was another women who ran past me in blur. She had long curly blond hair that sparkled like gold down her back and she was dressed in white wedding gown, which put mine to shame. She embraced Erik laughing. I saw her face flash before my eyes, round healthy cheeks and full red lips. She was the image of perfect beauty. She and Erik both laughed and smiled together, as he took her hand and kissed it.

            "My Christine." He called to her

            "My Erik." She replied. I felt overcome by despair and jealously. I thought Erik cared for me. I saw the garden around me fade. The flowers withered and hung limp on their branches. The sun hid itself behind the clouds. My dress had become no more than a thin gray rag, barley covering my frame.  I watched in pain as Erik and Christine embraced warmly, while I had to hold my arms across my chest to keep from freezing. Tears feel from my eyes and turned to pieces of ash before they hit the ground.

            And I was so cold.

            My body shivered all over, and I opened my eyes wearily. My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and my vision was blurred. All I could make out were small specks of light dotting the dark space I was in. Perhaps I was dead and this was my coffin. I could not move my arms or legs and my back was stiff. But then I heard a voice and something applied pressure to my knees. I tried to focus to see what it was, but my eyes wouldn't let me. So I just listened.

            "Oh God please don't take this child. Have mercy on her where once you showed me none. Don't take her away form me." It was Erik and he was praying. Sobbing and praying. "Don't take her please. I need her." 

            I managed to find my voice to call out to him. My vision had finally settled. "Erik?" I felt a strong pair of arms slip around my neck and a tearful face settle against my cheek.

            "Belle! Christ, I thought I almost lost you." He exclaimed trying to sound as dignified as possible through his tears. I felt his soft jet black hair brushed against my forehead and I wanted to reach out my hands to hold him, but I couldn't move. Erik was right next to me and I could even touch him with my own hands. He suddenly backed away and straighten himself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that just now." he apologized. He kept his feeling caged up inside him like a prison, and it made me so sad.

            "No." I argued. "I don't care about that." I bit my lip, feeling foolish and childish that I had just said that. "Erik what happen to me? I feel so numb." He reached over to the bedside table, soaking a hand towel in a basin of steaming water. Wringing it in his hand he placed on my forehead, soaking my face. I took a moment to inhale the scent of the warm water, savoring its fresh aroma. 

            "You fell in the lake somehow. You almost drown and you've been unconscious for almost a day now." He explained. I understood. I glanced down at my body to see I was wrapped tightly in a large wool blanket. Erik must have dived into the lake himself to rescue me.

            "You saved me? Why?" I asked timidly

            "What else could I do?" he replied dryly. Erik turned my head to the side and bathed my neck with the warm towel.

 "You didn't have to. You should have just let me die. I don't deserve to be rescued." I felt so worthless lying there, as if I were just another burden to him.

            "No don't say that!" he retorted. "I would have been a complete monster to leave you. How can you even act like you don't want to live?" He slipped a hand under my neck and pulled me closer to him. His fingers massaged themselves through my hair. "Belle, you are one of most nature's beautiful creations." He gave a small laugh. "If you don't mind me saying so that is. But you can't say you don't deserve to live. God, I'm the one who should be saying that." His voiced dropped into a lower range and sounded so deep vibrating around my ear. I trembled under the sheet.

            "But Erik why wouldn't you let me see your face?" I questioned. "I know I've hurt you but please would you let me see it?" I tried to reach my fingers to touch his mask, but he pulled his face away.

            "God why must you ask?" he breathed. His voice sounded so sorrowful. "Please take my word. I wish to spare you the horror of the face that lies beneath the mask. Just believe me." He started to pull his hands away, but I clamped my fingers around him tightly is a desperate attempt. I think I was starting to understand the terror behind the mask. I pulled myself up from the bed to look at him at the same eye level. He had his face almost fully in the shadows, with only the reflection of his blue eyes shining in the darkness.

            "Please I could see, I wouldn't think any lest of you." I pleaded.

            "No." he snapped back. Turning back into the light he held hand above his face. "There is no face behind this. It's nothing more than a sick twist of fate. A cruel joke of God! You could not possibly want to see it." His tone start to crack and sound shaky like when he was crying. I blinked and then just stared at him for a long moment, not trying to be rude or inconsiderate as I did.

            I only wanted to gaze upon this poor tortured man whom society had left behind, out of compassion. If the world would not love him, then I would. I pulled one of his hands back; his palms were so soft and smooth against mine. I rested my cheek against it. "Erik if all you are concealing behind the mask in an unfortunate face, then you have nothing really monstrous to hide." I felt his arms embrace me once more and I let myself rest my head against his shoulder.

            "Erik, I love you." I whispered into the sleeve of his warm shirt and prayed to God he did not hear it.

Erik let me relax in bed for the rest of the day. He had stayed by my side most of the time, reading me some poetry from his collection of books. I listened for long hour in soft relaxation, entranced by his beautiful voice. I analyzed intently every syllable he spoke. But then he excused himself saying he needed to prepare for something. I assumed it was dinner, but when he had been gone for almost an hour and I didn't hear any noises of cooking from outside my door, I began to wonder. So I finally decide to get up and go find him. My legs were still weak, but I managed to at least wobble my way out of bed and half way to the door before Erik walked back in again. He gave me a shocked expression, and I blushed. I must have looked like a spectacle, limping like a thin-legged foal with the large wool blanket trailing behind me.

"Belle what are you doing up?" he asked in an upset tone.

"I wanted to see where you went. I was worried because you were gone for so long." I confessed sheepishly. A sort of sly smile rose to his lips as he came towards me.

"Oh I see. You wanted to know what I was up to." Then without warning, he scoped me into his arms and twirled me around. I gave sharp intake of laughter. He started to carry me out the door. "Why then I just have to show you." He held me tight in his arms as he carried me out and to the drawing room. I threw my own arms around his neck. He kicked the door of the room open with his foot. It was totally dark, and I started to fell a little frighten when Erik stepped inside. He managed to see his way through and set me down on something. I felt around with my hands to discover it was one of the divan. "Now I was going to keep this a surprise, so I'll have to ask you to close your eyes for a moment." He instructed 

I felt cold and nervous, he had said the same thing to me the night he first brought me here. When I didn't respond to him he called again. "Belle are you all right?"

"I can hardly see as it is Erik. Do I really have to close my eyes?" I asked

"I suppose not, but can you until I get some light in here. I really wanted it to be a surprise." I sighed and closed my eyes, but still alert if he would try to do something unexpected. I could smell the match being lit. A few more moments passed by. 

"Erik can I opened my eyes yet?"

"Hold on." Then I felt one of his fingers on my cheek. "Open them now." He whispered. I let my eyes peer open and my mouth almost dropped to the floor. A beautiful red ball gown was laid out on a mannequin. The skirt was full and the sleeves were fitted yet following and open on the ends. The entire dress was painstakingly covered in lace and needlework designs. I got up to look at it, but Erik slipped an arm around me to help me over. I was still feeling weak in the knees. I ran my hands around the gown; trying to determine which time period it came from. I turned to Erik.

"What is all this for?" He smiled and shrugged, then leaned down on my shoulder.

"It's for you all of it. There is a masked ball at opera next week. If you would permit me to ask, but would you accompany me?" he asked softly. My heart skipped a beat and I squeezed his hand tightly.

"I'd loved too."


	10. Masks Hide All

Chapter Ten

Masks Hide All

Belle

            It was a strange road indeed we took to reach the surface, but I enjoyed it none the lest. For some strange reason the dark caverns of the underground did not frighten me as much as they had done before. The high dark ceilings seem encased with shades of black and dark blue as if they were painted on. The dripping and splashing of the water echoed like music in the lake, nature's own symphony. Erik had made special care to make sure my dress was perfect and not ruined during the journey. He even lifted me up off the ground and helped me climb into the boat so my dress would not tear at the bottom. But the best surprise was when we reached the other shore, and Erik went to fetch something. He returned with a large white horse, it's mane glistening like a light in the darkness. I gasped in surprise.

            "Oh Erik, He's so beautiful." I exclaimed reaching forward to stroke his neck. The horse made a soft noise and the nuzzled his nose against my hand. "What's his name?"  I asked

            "He is called Cesar. He used to be a fabulous show horse used for the stage many years ago. He's being getting old now, but the opera company still keeps him around." Erik slipped his hand into mine, leaving something in my palm. I opened it and glanced down. They were sugar cubes in my hands. "Feed him those. He'll love you."

            I offered my open palm to Cesar and he licked it free of the sugar cubes with a well-placed movement of his pink tongue. I gave a small laugh; it brought back memories of me and my brother Beau with his horses. I patted him on the head, pressing my forehead against his soft short hair. "He is such a kind soul." I remarked. 

            "Indeed he is, and very tame and obedient as well. He doesn't even need a bridle or a bit." He stood by Cesar side and outstretched a hand to me. "Well milady, your white horse awaits you." With a smile I took his hand as he helped me up onto Cesar's back. The horse gave a grunt and then a quick approving nod of his head. I looked down at Erik and thought there could be no more special moment than now. Bizarrely, it felt so near to perfect. I was on a white horse and I looked down and there was my prince standing. I felt like I was in a fairy tale childish as it was. Erik was dressed in a gold mask and a dark blue hooded cloak. He looked like a magician. He held out his hand to Cesar and the horse began to trot behind him, following. I gently stroke Cesar's neck and whispered word of encouragement into his ear. Erik led us to the surface up and down winding dark corridors. The images of the underground didn't frighten me anymore. I looked calmly at the fires of the furnaces and the dark bricks of the walls. We crossed by a well and then a large room full of props and old sets. It was indeed like a fairy tale, a false one no doubt, but as I sat there being carried by Cesar, I thought did it really matter? I was alive and being treated kinder than I had ever been before. And more importantly I had a friend to talk to, and while I could never understand Erik's pain on the same level, he was still there. We could be each other's comfort and support. I sighed knowing I could really be nothing more to him. Yes he cared and pitied me, but his heart belonged to another women, and it looked content to remain there.

            But just maybe, maybe that would change. But I couldn't be completely certain so I had to keep my hopes grounded for now.

            We finally reach to the point where Cesar could walk no further, so Erik led me on foot up a flight of stairs the rest of the way. We emerged from behind the mirror in the old dressing room and then made our way through the hallways of the opera. I could hear music and the sounds of voices growing louder. I tingled with anticipation. I had been to parties when my family was still wealthy but never a social gathering this big. Erik withdrew an envelope from his cloak and checked his mask. We stopped at a set of large double doors where the sound was coming from. Two footmen stood outside the doors and as we approached on of them turned to Erik. "May I see your invitation monsieur?" he asked. Erik nodded and then passed the envelope to the other man. He opened the seal and examined the note inside. "Very well then, all seems to be in order." He confirmed opening one of the doors. "Enjoy the masque." I stepped through the door, Erik's arm slipped around mine into the bright light of the party room. I gasped in wonderment and delight. The great entrance hall which I had only see as empty, set in silence beauty was now full of warmth and energy. The colored costumes danced before my eyes like a magical carousel. I observed the dress of the other partygoers as Erik escorted me down the stairs. We were meet with an occasional stare or glance, but it didn't feel incriminating or harsh. I felt that I belonged, hidden behind my own mask.

            "All the other couples costumes seem to match color you know. Erik why didn't you decide to wear something red?" I asked trying to make small conversation. His lips contorted into what I could only guess was a cynical smile. He gave a slight chuckle under his breath.

            "I've outdone the red costume before in my past." he simply replied. We finally reached the dance floor and I watched the small string quartet lead the dancing couples in a lively polka. I watched enraptured as the dance came to a climatic ending, which was meet by applause. The faces passed before my own, either porcelain or paper. There were animals, and mythical creatures and even mask representing no more than abstract objects. Erik leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Would you like something to drink, perhaps?" 

            I turned around in his arm, with a beaming smile across my face. I started to pull him out onto the dance floor. "No Erik, let's just dance. I want to dance all night!" I exclaimed foolishly. I felt so alive and rather giddy. The quartet slowly moved into a beautiful waltz. I recognized the tune immediately, it was a variation of the folksong Erik and I had sung. He brought his arms around my hands and started to lead me in the dance steps. I feet felt as if there were five inches off the ground as Erik turned me about the dance floor like I was floating. I watched the other dancers who had started to slow their own steps to watch us, but I didn't mind at all. In Erik's arms I could be as graceful as a queen or delicate as a butterfly. Being with him transformed me; he had molded my outlook on life into something new and amazing. Erik reached up a hand to place with the petals of the rose I had placed in my hair. I let my head rest against his chest, the soft fabric of his jacket pressed upon my cheek. I could hear his heartbeat echoing in my eardrum, matching the waltz like the bass of the song. I glanced around again, now mostly everyone was watching us, but in delight with smiles on their faces. As we would past them, I could make out certain whispers such as "My how graceful they look" or "Such wonderful dancers they are."

            Erik was the one who moved like a professional dance. Could I add the art of movement to one of his list of talent? Would Erik ever stop doing things that would amaze me? He used a set of fingers to lift up my chin to face him. "Belle are you happy here?" he asked simply. I stared at him confused for a while. Could he not see my smile? Of course I was happy, happier than I have ever been.

            "With me" he added with uncertainty.

            "I am." I replied firmly. The last strains of the waltz started to bring the song to a close. Erik spun me in the last twirl before it ended. We bowed to each other. Even through all the lively chatter in the room, I still felt that in that moment between me and him, gazing into each other's eyes it was dead silence. So quiet that I could hear my blood running through my ears. He then came towards me and leaned over to place a soft kiss on my face. I blushed as he did so. Pulling away he whispered. "That's all I needed to know."

            I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to be greeted by the faces of two masked women. They both wore fine party dresses, one of gold and the other of green. Their cheeks were red and hot as if they had been giggling. The crowd started to swell around us and I was afraid of losing Erik in the mass of people.

            "Oh mademoiselle, we simply has to tell you how beautiful you looked on the dance floor just now." one exclaimed.

            "Yes indeed. That gown is gorgeous! Where on earth did you find such a dress?" added the other. I listened closely and then realized that I recognized the voices behind the masks. But it couldn't be, I thought I would never see them again. Carefully, I lowered my mask off my face.

            "Marie? Clara?" I asked. I saw two pairs of shocked eyes staring back at me as the women in lowered their masks.

            "Belle?' my sisters asked in turn.


	11. To Want and Reach, but Cannot Have

Chapter Eleven

To Want and Reach, But Cannot Have

            Belle 

            I felt my sisters run and embrace me. I was completely shocked to see them. When I had left them, they had been simply poor peasants like the rest of my family, but now they should before me dressed in such finery, but they were mostly likely wondering the same thing about me. I tried to look around me but could not see Erik anywhere. He had been swept away in the crowd and I could not even make out the color of his dark magician cloak. "Oh Belle, My darling little sister!" Marie cried, even though I knew from my past Marie could make herself weep in an attempt to overact occasionally. "We thought we never see you again."

            "And why was that?" I asked

            Clara clasped her hands together. "Oh we thought you would be a prisoner forever. Or worse even killed."

            "Well you can see I'm still here. But why are you here? What's going on at home?" I wondered. Immediately I saw both their faces drop, in genuine disappointment. I could tell that the news they were concealing at my question was not pleasant. "What's wrong?"

            "Belle, it's doesn't matter, all that's matters as that you're alive and you need to come home with us." Clara said trying to brush me off. "Come I'll call our coachman right now." she grabbed my arm and started to pull me away. But I yanked out of her grip.

            "No tell me what's wrong now, or I won't go! Why are you in all these fancy dresses and where is Papa?" I demanded.

            "Papa is sick." Marie said quietly behind me. I turned to face her and she turned her eyes downcast, her red curls casting shadows over her forehead. " You see Belle, one of mother's uncles found us and took us in. But by that time Papa had gotten very sick. He's been lying in bed for days, and he's been calling out for you. Aunt Estelle brought us to the ball tonight, and Papa was so delirious he asked us to look for you and bring you back home." My sister tried to force a smile on her face. "How happy he will be to see you."

            My stomach dropped in shock and disbelief. I had been gone no lest than two months and my family had already come back into wealth. And my father was sick. I did not believe my sisters had come to the party just in search of me, I knew them too well. They were too ecstatic about becoming rich to care for the welfare of others. I tried to turn my thought to something else, like which uncle had taken my family in. But all I could think about was my father.

            Sick, he could be dying and he thought I must be dead as well. Oh what had I done to him? I was so wrapped up in trying to make myself happy and content with Erik and I had forgotten all about him. My papa needed me, and I should have tried to escape to him earlier or better yet not leave home at all. "Oh Belle please say you will some home with us?" Clara begged. I stood there for another long silent moment perfectly still. I felt torn apart. I just couldn't leave Erik but I would die if I couldn't be with my father. When I saw the tears fall from my face, I knew then what my decision had to be.

            "Yes, I'll come home." I managed to choke out. I felt Clara give me a light hug as Marie's eyes darted to the door.

            "Then let's go. There isn't a moment to lose."

            "No wait!" I protested. "There is someone I have to say goodbye too first." I rushed back into the crowd, clawing my way though trying to find Erik. I brushed my tears away but with every one I erased a fresh new one fell. I finally caught sight of him, standing in a corner looking rather melancholy. He fidgeted with the tie of his cloak and glanced around the room. I went beside him and gently tapped his arm. He snapped his gaze downward to me.

            "Oh there you are." He exclaimed relief. "Is everything all right?" I stared up at him, my mind went blank and then the next moment raged with thoughts and regret.

            " Erik…I" I was losing my words inside my mouth. "Can we go somewhere to talk…alone perhaps? There is something I need to tell you."

Erik

            Each candle or lamp shining through the crack of windows each produced a pinpoint of light scattering across the Paris skyline. The sight of the city at night was truly was a spectacle to behold from atop the opera roof. But such as the wind blew uncertain through the fold of my cloak, not all was right in the surroundings. Belle leaned against one of the stone banisters, staring out into the night sky, but it looked like her whole body was shaking all over though she tried to hide it. "It's so beautiful up here." She offered a break in the silence with her words. "Are you sure no one will find us here?"

            "Not a soul." I replied glancing up to the statue of Apollo, his lyre casting shadows over the night. This had been the same spot where Christine and her lover Raoul had crept away, making plans to abandon me, and I sat, listening to the whole thing. Quite ironic that I was here again ready to expose myself to more secrets. For I was sure that was what Belle was with holding from me. I came and stood beside her, letting my elbows rest against the stones. I saw her face, two streams of tears falling from her eyes. "Belle, what's the matter?" I asked laying a hand on her shoulder. She lost control and flung herself into my arms sobbing.

            "Oh Erik. My father is sick. He might die." She moaned between her tears. "I'm so afraid for him." She took a slow deep breath in an attempt to calm her but she still shook fiercely. "I don't want to ask this of you Erik, but I'm afraid I must." She took a step back so that she could lift her head. Her blue eyes looked like broken bits of glass. "Erik please may I go home? Just to see my father, I mean just till he becomes well again. That's all I'm asking for." She pleaded.

            My mind screamed no as the words rushed through my being in protest. But I did not speak them. This can't be happening, not now! She had seemed so happy here with me, completely content. I had tried to make her forget all the troubles of the world, and I had started to believe that I had finally found a person who could see me, as I truly was, who understood me. I didn't want to let that go, or it would be gone forever. Belle was so special to me; I could never find another person like her if I search for a hundred years. I realized that I had started to embrace here tightly as if she would try and run away. No she couldn't leave I wouldn't let her. I had lost Christine; I wouldn't be left alone again. 

            I felt a small salty tears escape from my eye and trickle underneath my mask. No I couldn't do that. I would truly be a monster. She had already left her father on my account and now I was preventing her once again. I had no right to do that. No I couldn't keep her prisoner here any longer. I should have let her go a long time ago, spare us both the pain. I let my masked cheek rest against the top her hair, the cold thin layer of porcelain separating my flea from touching her. "How did you find out he was ill?" I asked

            "My sisters are here tonight. They told me." She explained. "Erik I will come back, I promise! I just didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. You must believe me, I will return." But with those words she had already sealed her fate. I turned my head away to gaze out at the night sky. Poor girl, she didn't know she stood in a place of broken promises and her vow to return was exactly that, a broken promise. Christine had promised to return to by house by the lake many times and even though she did return she was in secret planning her escape with her vitcomte. Yes I would let Belle go, knowing that I would be alone forever.

            "Yes you must go." I whispered. She looked up at me in shock.

            " I'm free to leave?" she asked unsure

            "Yes go to your father. He nneds you." I replied softly trying to not to look at her tear stained face. I just stared into the darkness trying to forget. I felt one of her hand reach to touch my mask, turning my head to gaze back in her direction.

            "Thank you for understanding how much he needs me." She said as she fluttered her eyes open and close. But I need you just as much I wanted to scream, my hands shaking. I wanted to block out her words in fact cover my lips over hers so she couldn't speak them. I was frozen. "You truly are an angel." Quickly I took her hand from my face holding it before her in my open palm. I slipped off my onyx and silver ring from my little finger and place it on her index finger.

            "This is for you, so you can always remember me." I said shaky. I brought her hand back to my mask covering it with my own. Then I pulled her even closer, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. Remember me. Don't leave me. I love you. All these words I wanted to scream, but I kept myself silent rocking her in my arms. Tears issued from my mask and as I pulled away I saw that I had left my own tears on her face and mingled with her own. The sight of it was too much for me to take in and I turned away from her my hands covering my face. I heard her sweet voice behind me.

            "Goodbye Erik." She whispered. I heard her small footsteps clicking on the stones as she walked away. My body shook with madness ready to tear away, stop her and keep her by my side forever. Why not? I was no real man, only a beast, a heartless creature who wanted to keep his prized pet caged forever. I was the master is Christine's soul, why could I not control Bell's as well? Why was everything I loved was taken away from me, leaving me with only hate in sorrow.

            "Stay" I whispered.

            I turn in the direction she left, seeing nothing behind me. Not even a trace acknowledging she had even been there. I gazed up at the statue of Apollo seeing shadows of my former self. Watching from underneath the lyre, my eyes glowed like a demon, frightening Christine. I forced myself not to think of the past, and if I could try not tot think of anything at all, to have my mind draw a complete blank. It was a useless attempt of my own. I let my fingers brush against the cold stonewall, my knuckles scrapping on the rough bits of mortar. I looked down from the roof to the street below seeing a large carriage bathed in light from the large windows.

            "Stay with me, please." I begged again into the darkness.

            I saw the fleeting figure in red run to the awaiting carriage. Belle was embraced by two other women and then stepped inside. I could make out that she was looked outside the small window but I didn't know if she was gazing at the lights of the party or up into the darkness at me. But it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore. I saw the carriage roll away until it was out of my sight.

            With a violence temperament I squeezed my hands into tight fists and slammed them across the roof and threw my head back, screaming into the night.

            "STAY!"


	12. Run Away from the Pain

Chapter 12

Run Away From the Pain

Belle

            I could hardly contain myself on the carriage ride home. My stomach and lower body cramped in knots as my fingers twitched nervously. As soon as the coach stopped in front of my Uncle Jean and Aunt Estelle's anything but modest château, I dashed out the door and inside the house. "Where is my papa?" I cried when I reached the main parlor. Tears had already leaked like a fountain down my face, I was greeted by the confused look of every maid and butler who had stopped their duties to stare at me. My Uncle Jean whom I had not seen in ages got up form his large high back chair and came to put a steady arm around me.

            "Belle, he's right upstairs dear. I'll show you." He tried to lead me up the marble staircase but I was so frantic I managed more to drag him along. I saw the first door on my left and pushed it open. I saw my father lying on a bed. The way the candles were lit in the room and how the doctor and my brother stood at the corner, I felt like I had walked in on his funeral. I ran to the bed, but Beau moved forward to stop me.

            "Don't Belle, not yet. The doctor still has to give him the medicine." He said trying to retrain me. I just cried harder as he stroked my hair trying to calm me. I saw the doctor give my father a spoonful of liquid and then pulled the covers up against his chin. I managed to find my voice through my tears.

            "Beau how long has he been like this?" I asked

            "Almost since the day you left. The work, the stress and the cold weather it was too much for him I suppose." I made a choking sound and could catch my breath. The doctor left a bottle of the medicine on the bedside table and started to gather his things in his bag.

            "Your father had the scarlet fever, mademoiselle…." He intoned in a stern clipped tone, not bothering even to address me face to face as he spoke. "The medicine and treatment should help him, but he's going to have to find the strength to pull through it." He closed his bad and headed for the door. "I'll be back within the week to check up on him. Good evening." And with that he left. I took slow claming breaths to steady myself but my hands still shook fiercely. I took long strides trying to walk to the bed as dignified as possible. I sunk to my knees beside him slipping my hand over his. It was burning hot but at the same time dripping with cold sweat. I wanted by papa back the way he was so much. I wanted his hands to by warm like when he tickled me as a child, not these hands that felt like death. His eyes were slightly closed and yet he turned his head to me and I was relived to see a grin spread across his pale features.

            "Belle?" he asked in a hoarse voice that I barley recognized as his.

            "Yes Papa it's me I'm home." I said happily. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

            "Belle take this blanket off me. I'm practically choking on the heat." He requested. I smiled lowering the covers off his neck and upper chest. Then I leaned down and kissed his forehead. He smelled of the disease, not the scent of pipe tobacco I had been accustom to as his scent. "Oh Belle, my Belle." He exclaimed softly trying to reach up his other hand to embrace me.

            "It's all right Papa. I'm home now."

            I stayed by my father's side all through the night, despite the protest of my family members, and even the nurse and maid. Finally in the early morning, beau had finally convinced me to go get cleaned and dressed in something not quite as elaborate as the ball gown. So I retired to my sister's chambers and washed my face in a basin of cool water and slipped into a light muslin dress. I hung up the red dress in a closet, looking at it longing. I wish the dance we shared last night could have lasted forever. I shut the dress within the dark closet with a long sigh. It could never be I told myself; Erik and I came from totally different worlds. When I returned to the room I saw my sisters and Beau waiting for me. I took my seat next to my father's head and he awoke as I bathed his forehead with a damp cloth.

            "Belle I thought I'd never see you again." He said looking up at the ceiling. "How did you ever escape?" I held the cloth in my hand, thinking of the time when Erik had tended my maladies in the same manner. My chest felt tight under my bodice. Could this be the feeling of heartache I wondered? I glanced around the room at the anxious looks of my family members edger to hear the tale.

            "Does it really matter Papa? I'm home now, that's the important thing."

            "It most certainly does matter!" Clara snapped fanning herself. "It's a miracle you emerged from that place with your virtue intact." My sister shot me a disgusted glance. "I'm assuming, that is." I felt so crushed by her words and my courage and pride stray from my mind.

            "Erik would never do that to me." I whispered softly with my head lowered.

            "Oh this creature has a name, does he? That wretched demon that kidnapped you and threaten our father's life. If it weren't for that monster you would have never have left and father would still be well." Clara continued her assault, leaving no mercy to my exposed feelings. I suddenly slammed my fists on the table as I rose to my feet.

            "He is not a monster! How dare you call Erik that? You don't even know him!" Angry tears made my harsh words sound more like a feeble choked protest. Clara played her fan across her face to conceal her triumphant smug smile. My sister had always been notorious for tormenting me in my past, and sometimes I felt she was so two-faced, she would stop at nothing to make me miserable.

            "But surely Belle, you must admit it is quite odd for a gentleman to reside in the cellars of the opera house?" Beau interjected trying to calm the tension. 

            Even my oldest sister Marie who was more timid looked up from her needlework. "Oh yes indeed. What did he look like?"

            I felt a hard lump form in my throat and I tried to swallow it back. "I never saw his face." I breathed.

            Marie cocked an eyebrow in confusion and morbid curiosity. "Why not?"

            "He wore a mask." I admitted simply feeling a fresh tear spring from my eyelids. My father turned in my direction.

            "Belle my dear, why would he wear a mask?" I could see in my father's eyes his mind was not grasping the serious distress that question was causing me. I stroked a patch of his gray hair by his temple, freeing it from the mass of sweat on his forehead.

            "I'm certain that it was because his face must have been horribly deformed. He never let me see. But he was so lonely down there and so sad." More tears as I turned away feeling more like a small child than the noble lady I was brought up to be.

            "So he let you leave." My father asked simply.

            "Yes he did Papa. I heard you were sick and he said I should leave. I know he seem frightening to you, but I truly believe he is a man who believes in free will. I came to him of my own free will and he let me go of his. Despite his differences, Erik is one of the kindest souls I have ever met."

            "Well then I must thank him for returning you to me, for just the sight of you back home already makes me feel better." My father said smiling and resting a hand over mine. I noticed my tears starting to fade and a crimson blush rise to my cheeks to replace them. 

            "Oh but I promise to return to him, at least to thank him if nothing else." Than a sudden thought occurred to me. Could I really go back to Erik and have things the way they were? I was impossible. As long as my family was still wealthy I would remain trapped by my social class. It was unthinkable for me to go and live with him again, unless I was his wife. His wife, the idea echoed in my brain. Could that be possible? No I repeated to myself, Erik could never live in my world with my family. I realized finally that it was not the world of darkness and solitude that imprisoned more than it was the world of social hierarchy that trapped me inside, away from him. But how I wish that would all just go away. Yes I would more than gladly be willing to be Erik's wife, but would he want me. Did he love me as I loved him? I wasn't sure and I was overwhelmed by the terrible feeling of lost.

            "Well all that matters is that you're back, and you did the right thing leaving that beast there to die!" Clara broke my thoughts with harsh tongue. I couldn't take it any more and I left the room. Running down the hall, I buried my face in my hands, cursing myself, I finally found an empty room with large balcony window and flung it open. I looked over the grounds the expansive land looked so bleak to my eyes. Eyes that had been changed and opened to the new wonders Erik had shown me. I deeply longed to see him again to hear his voice. I had only been gone no lest than a day, but I felt like I had been deprived of air. I was suffocating here and I wanted to leave.

            "Are you all right?" I heard a voice behind me. I turned to see my brother beau waiting in the room, a calm expression still on his face.

            "Don't look at me." I croaked wishing I could stop crying. Instead he threw his arms around me, holding my tight. Though we were the same age, my twin brother stood over a foot taller than me, so his arms dangled across my chest as his chin rested on top of my head.

            "You know crying was one of your biggest weaknesses. In fact it was your only one. You've always been so strong, that's why I hate to see you fall apart now. I knew there is only one thing that could do that to you." He spun me in his arms, lifting my chin with his fingers. "Belle you're in love. You can hide that."

            "It's true I love him!" I admitted. "But I can't leave papa while he is sick, and I can't return to Erik. It wouldn't be proper and…"

            "I know, everything must seem so confusing right now. But you can't let that bring you down. You have to follow your heart." I saw my brother and realized he had become now a man, the real head of this family. "I will not judge you."

            Erik had said the same thing to me. I missed him so, but I had a promise hear that I must keep. "I'll stay here until papa gets well again, but after that I want to go back to Erik, if he'll even have me back that is."

            Beau planted a kiss on the top of my head. "Then you may leave with my blessing."

Erik

            I lay curled up on the rose scented white sheets for hours. I didn't know when the last time I had moved. I felt foolish. About a week had past since the masked ball, since she had left me. I had walled myself in my own hidden grief and sorrow. I had not eaten much and only drank when I saw it fit to drown myself with wine until I passed out in a drunken stupor. And within this period, I would stumble in her bedroom and collapse upon the bed. SO when I awakened I would be surrounded by all my forgotten memories. I pulled the chiffon canopy curtain around me. Endless nights I would stay in that room, allowing myself to my head on the soft pillows. But the fabric was cold; in fact everything around me was cold. There was no warm female body within the sheets. No intoxicating scent of violets or the heat of a blushing cheek.

            It had instead become a tomb, a dark wasteland only decorated falsely to look like a room. What had been her prison was now my grave. I unbuttoned my tuxedo shirt and let my bare flesh be caressed by the sheets, if not by the body that once occupied them. A great pain seized my body as I grasped my chest. I coughed hard and loud, my whole torso shaking with each creaking hack I produced from my mouth. I had been accustomed to this. The coughing fits had been on and off for about a month now, and I had to try and hide my illness from Belle. But the past week the attacks had increased in number and no honeyed elixir I could concoct that would ease the pain.

            I finally relaxed and collapsed again on the sheets once more and glanced over at tone of the nightstand and saw the vase of pink roses. The water was brown and murky and the petals had withered to the point that they were black and fell off. Everything around me was dying, including me. Again I coughed into the sheets and reached for the other object on the nightstand, a book. As I turned to look at the cover, I saw it was the book of fairy tales. I flipped through the pages of the book were a bookmark had been placed and survived the title.

            "La Belle et la Bete"

            I slammed the book closed in disgust. Quite the ironic ending I thought. The beast turns into a prince and lives happily ever after, how charming. Almost like the idea of a phantom turning into a gentleman or a ghost fit to be a husband. "Happily ever after." I hissed between grimacing lips. A scream of rage erupted from my throat as I tore off my mask and flung it across the room. With a deft hand, I picked up the book and threw it at the round mirror above the vanity table, its hard bounded mass shattering the glass. Fleck of mirror flew in all directions including those that flew past my face, ripping fresh new scars into my flesh. I stared into the broken shards on the floor; they distorted my deformed features, twisting them into even more horrid images.

            "Damn You! You must love me." I screamed into the air. Again my chest convulsed and I was knocked backwards coughing into my hands. I was losing my mind as I saw between my beaten breaths images of Belle standing over me. I finally stopped coughing and blacked out for a moment. I awoke to something wet and sticky dripping from the hand that covered my mouth.

            Blood.

A/N: * pops out * Hello all my readers. First I'd like to thank everybody for all the reviews and comments. The story not done yet though! Sorry if I confused anyone into thinking Chapter Eleven was the end. Special thanks to Cyranothe2nd for the very helpful review, many respectable thanks to you. If anyone is interested, I have gone back and edited pervious chapters. I actually had time to read and finish a "Beauty and the Beast" like romance novel, "The Bride and The Beast" which helped me to get some idea. I recommend that book to any romance novel fans in case anyone is interested in. Oh well enough of my ramblings. Spring break is coming soon, so look for more chapters.


	13. Hidden Trials

Chapter 13

Hidden Trials

Belle 

          It had been three weeks since I returned home, and already my father was making much progress, more than was expected. Even the pompous doctor on his visits was pleasantly shocked by my father's rapid gain of good health. Of course he was sure the recovery was because of the fine medicine he had left. But I knew that wasn't true. Love was the best medicine of all. Papa was now strong enough to take walks around his room and even out to the balcony and we expected in a month he would be back to his old self. Just like the rest of the family.

          Marie being the oldest attended her duties to keeping our family once again in good social stature. Her and my mother's sister, Aunt Estelle were constantly planning social gathering for the household. And as usually Clara would only seek to rep the benefits of throwing parties for her pleasure in which she would never put an effort in. I was surprised still that she hadn't found a husband yet. Indeed it was just like old times. I was thankful that my aunt and uncle had welcomed us into their home and promised we could stay there. My father was too old to start up a business again and hopefully the rest of the children would be married off by then. Except perhaps me.

          I sat alone for days attended only by the company of books in the library, thinking of when I could finally return to Erik. My thoughts range from hopelessness to inward joy. Perhaps Erik and I could share a life together. My family would already have enough children to carry on the line and name. But then I wondered if Erik would even take me back. Perhaps he wouldn't and we would have to both be content to live the rest of lives alone, for I would never marry. But I wouldn't let that happen not until I was certain how he felt about me. I couldn't wait for the moment that I could return to him, embrace him recklessly and confess that I loved him with all my soul. He had made me fell so wonderful and alive. I could not let that favor go unpaid. I vowed as soon as my father was able to walk on his own and in the best of health I would return to the opera.

           It wasn't until I was lying in my bed one night that I knew I would have to leave sooner than I thought. It had been a sleepless night, my thoughts were at unrest and I was uncomfortable under the heavy comforter. I thought to rise and read a book or have a glass water but I was awaken to another sound. A terrible hacking noise of someone coughing very hard. "Papa" I whispered instantly. I threw the covers, put on a robe and slippers and was about to dash out of the room until I stopped at the door and listened. The sound was much closer; in fact it was in my room. I froze trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. I rounded my bed slowly trying not to make a sound. I saw a dark hunched figure lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. It convulse like a wild animal as if it could not control its own movements. "Papa is that you?" I called. Even with the pale beams of moonlight pouring in from the window I could still not make out its features. I reached outward to touch it lightly on the shoulder. I only had one guess who it could be. "Papa?" I asked again. When my fingers came in contact with its flesh, the figure jerked up sharply revealing a most horrible visage in the moonlight.

          It was Erik. His lips from under his mask were dry, his forehead visible under his hairline was ghastly pale and wet. His eyes were dilated and darted about wildly like a wounded animal trapped in a cage. But the most horrible sight was the specks of dry blood that spattered about his chin and mouth. 

          "Belle…" he croaked the breath from his lips whipped hot and harshly against my cheek. Then he reached up his hands towards my face. They were covered with blood. "Come back to me…" he whispered, reaching his hands to touch me. I was frozen with shock but as soon as those bloody fingers touched my face, I tried desperately to push them away.

          "No Erik, stop it." I protested, and at the same time was shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. I pushed my hands on his chest but to no avail. He held me tighter, those marvelous hands now covered in blood starting to caress my hair. "NO!!" I screamed finally pushing him off. I backed away, until I felt something hard smack against my palm. I fell over onto the thick carpet, the world going black all around me.

          I awoke moments later to the sound of rushing feet, the door opening and a gasp. "Oh Belle! What happen dear?" Aunt Estelle gasped. I felt a strong pair of arms come around my waist as Beau leaned my body up against his. Glancing at the floor I saw the painted porcelain washing basin from my nightstand in pieces on the floor and then suddenly felt a sharp pain, but was still too dizzy to tell where it was coming from. 

          "Fetch some hot water and bandages, quickly." Beau ordered. I finally managed to clear my vision and saw my Uncle Jean, Aunt Estelle, and Marie in the doorway looking down in dumb horror. "Belle does your hand hurt?" Beau asked me.

          "My hand?" I repeated dully, and then glanced down. A large piece of the broken basin was lodged into my palm, which was now covered in water and blood. Blood. I sighed heavily and let myself slide down towards the floor a lost for words. "Erik, poor Erik." Was all I could saw before I slipped into the darkness once more.

          Two day after my unfortunate accident and the reckoning dream, I had already made my plans to return to Paris. My hand only stung slightly but I had some packed some provision and was ready to leave. However there was once obstacle I hadn't expect, not from my own family. After saying my good byes to my father, I made my way down the grand staircase. I was going to ask Beau for a carriage or at least a horse, then bid farewell to the rest of the family. But as I reached the large doors in the main parlor I was shocked to discover they would not open. I pulled harder.

          "It's no use Belle, they're locked. In fact every door in the house is." I heard Clara's voice call from the parlor. I looked over in disgust to see her standing proudly by the mantle, Marie, Aunt Estelle and Uncle Jean by her side.

          "What's going on?" I asked.

          "You aren't leaving here to go back to him." She stated.

          "Who are you to tell me what I have to do?" I snapped back.

          "Please Belle." My uncle offered in a gentle soothing tone. "I only want what is best for you and the family, and I can not have you run off to this strange man, it just isn't decent." He explained. Damn their decently, I thought. I was so sick and tired of having my life ruled by aristocratic manner and law. Erik was dying, couldn't they understand that?

          "I know you are trying to do what is best, but please you have to let me go." I pleaded.

          "But we've heard all about this situation from Clara, you were almost justly kidnapped by any terms. We can't allow you to return to this man, why he sounds like a thief or a murder for that matter." Estelle interjected. I felt my small hands curl into fists at my side.

          "Clara." I hissed between clenched teeth. "What the hell does she know about it?" I challenged, seeing the surprised faces at my colorful choice of words. Marie moves towards me a bit her hands outstretched.

          "Belle, I only want us to be a family again. I know you care about this man, but please stay here with us." She begged her eyes full of sincerity and hope. It made me want to cry, the sickening feeling of having to choose between my family and the man I was in love with.

          " Please understand, I'm not leaving because I don't want to be with you all, I do. I love you. But Erik needs me right now. You have to realize that he's dying…" I started.

          "And how do you know for sure." Clara butted in. Angry tears of contempt and hate started to leak from my eyes.

          "I saw him in my dream, damn how many times must I tell you." I shouted again not caring if my unladylike language offended them. I stared at each of them, trying to get them to back down.

          "But Belle there are so many other fine suitors here that would make good husbands and…." Marie chimed in again. I had enough. I ran back to the doors and started pulling with all my might, pounding on it. Nothing could stop me from reaching Erik. I had to go and save him. But it was no use, the doors remained firmly shut. Hopeless I threw down my satchel of provisions and ran back to my room, sobbing all the way. I slammed the door shut and threw myself on the bed, weeping into my hands. I lay there for what seemed like hours.

          "Erik, I'm so sorry. I'm not strong enough to come help you. Please be all right my angel." I repeatedly cried over and over into the bed sheets, twisting my fingers about them.

          Then I heard a faint rapping sound from my window. At first I wanted to ignore it, but then I went to the window, opened it to investigate what it was. There below my window was Beau, dressed in a blue frock coat. Beside him was a large Clydesdale horse with a mane the color of walnuts. On his saddle were bags stuffed with bread and the long end of a rolled up map was sticking out of one. I was intrigued by this sight. "Belle listen to me." He called up. I wiped away a tear from my eye.

          "Go away." I whimpered softly, turning to go back inside.

          "No wait, I have a proposition. Do you know your way back to Paris?" he called. I stopped. Paris could it be. I rushed back to the window nodding my head.

          "I think so." I called down. I saw a delighted grin spread across his face and he nudged the horse along side him.

          "Do you remember when we were children and we use to climb high up in the apple trees so we wouldn't be seen by our governess. I nodded. "And you recall you were the best at climbing up, but when night fell and we had to go back, you were always too scarred to come back down." I did remember those times we hide and gave our governess quite a scare and how when we told father where we had been, he laughed instead of scolding us. But I didn't understand what my brother was getting at. The he reached up a hand and smile and I was reminded of the promise he made to me the first day I return. "Do you think you can make that climb down just one more time." He asked.


	14. Sometimes Dreams can be Real

Chapter 14

Sometimes Dreams can be Real

Erik

            I sat at the edge of the lake, my shoulders hunched over my body so steep that my arms hung down as my fingertips dipped into the cool water below me. Perhaps my body would just give up and I would tumble into the water and quickly drown to a painless death. I felt so numb. Fall into the water, to be covered by the dark deep depths that shielded my existence from the rest of the world in life. Perhaps it would do the same in death. I had not eaten in a week, my mouth was dry and I just wanted to end it all. It was so close. That end so near. That eternal sleep which I had longed for, so close and yet still far away.

            Because of hope, that flickering candle of hope still burning beneath this tortured shell. Hope that she would return. Belle would come back, she had promised. But for now I could only pray, which hadn't worked much for me in the past. I looked over the water; it's black surface reflected like some distorted mirror. I thought of how many times I had rowed back and forth on those waters. With Christine, frighten and asking question as she peered about in the darkness. With Belle as she sat quite and trembling. How cold and silence it was down here I thought. The perfect grave. 

            "Erik!" I heard my name called from afar. I lifted my head slightly at the noise. I could not tell if it was real or in my head. The voice sounded so far off, but was contain within the cellars of the opera or the frail sanity within my mind. I attempted to sit up listening again. Nothing. From where I was I could see the other side of the lake and it's small dock.

            "Erik…find…you." The voice came again, broken and faint. I reason that I must have been hearing things. I was seized by another coughing fit, more blood this time. My mouth wet, I rest upon my knees and hands, hacking the fluid onto the stone floor. It didn't matter anymore. I was going to die; the hearing of this voice was just a sign of my rapid delusions. There was no one coming to my aid, not Belle or Christine, Nadir or even the mob that would be doing me a favor by ending my life. But then I noticed the light glistening on the waters and around me change, distorted by a shadow passing through it. "No! Erik!" the voice gasped, but it was clear. Not even I could imagine something sounding that real. I turned my head in the direction of the voice and to my amazement saw a figure standing on the small dock. It was Belle. There she stood in dress and cloak, waving her arms frantically to get my attention.

            "Belle" I whispered. I pushed myself up to my feet. No this had to be a dream I kept telling myself. Yet I managed to make my way to the boat, rowing it towards the other side. My hands slipped from the pole and my knees felt they would buckle beneath me at any moment. But dream or not, I was coming. "I'm coming…" I said under my breath. "I'm coming for you." She stood there waiting for me, her eyes wide and anxious, and her hair wild around her face looked like she had been riding. Yet she was still a beautiful evoking sight to me. I reached the shore to her amazement and mine, but stumbled and nearly fell trying to step out of the boat. I was still very weak and she could tell it. She went to my side trying to steady me.

            "Erik, I'm so sorry." She said. "I would have come sooner."

            I was amazed she had come back at all, much lest find the lake again. I looked up at her face, trying to suppress another cough, the blood literally raging within my throat. I noticed she had a small cut on the side of her head. I lifted my figures to it in concern. "Belle you are hurt." I said.  Her flesh though wounded still felt so soft under my fingertips. She touched her hand up against mine.    

            "I'll be fine." She said sweetly. "But we need to get you back to your home. You're sick."

            "How did you know?" I asked. She lowered her head as she tried to lift me up to my feet again. I leaned against her and she helped me into the boat. 

            "I had this dream, when I was away, I had this horrible dream. I saw you in my room; you were coughing and so weak. I had to come back."  She looked at me closer now, tears starting to leak from her crystal blues eyes. "Erik you'll be okay, won't you?" she asked her voice cracking as she did.

            I couldn't lie to her. "I don't know how long…" I trailed off. That only seemed to spark her determination. She picked of the pole and started to row the boat by herself, paddling with mighty stroke I wouldn't expect from her frail body.

            "I'll get you home. I promised I would come back. And I'll take care of you Erik, I swear." She said to reassure me. I could only sit there admiring her courage. I should be the one caring for you, I wanted to tell her, but I could not control my illness any longer. Again blood spurted form my mouth. Belle adverted her eyes so she could not see me. I could tell it was painful for her to watch. The more I coughed the harder she would row. Finally we made it to the other side, and she helped me once more. She reached into the fold of her dress and withdrew a plain white lady's handkerchief covered with handmade lace, holding it in the direction on my face. I put out my hand refusing it.

            "No I couldn't." I protested still coughing into my own shirtsleeve. But she gave me a firm look and then stepped forward, moved my hand in a way to placed the cloth over my mouth. She held it there tightly as I coughed even harder. She gazed at me with sadness in her eyes. I in return looked at her with a look of thanks in my own eyes. We made our way into my house, I held her tight against me partly for support and balance and part that I simply didn't want to let her go. She didn't resist any of my actions. 

            "We need to get you some rest," she said pushing open the door to the room I had made for her. She helped me on the bed, and sat on the other side beside my head, placing pillows under my neck. I sighed, glancing up at her, finally able to pull the handkerchief away and speak.

            "You…came…back." I stuttered meekly. She reached over to the basin of water in her nightstand. I had filled it with warm water everyday since she had left; I hope that she would return. She took a damp towel and leaned over to wash the blood from around my lips. But she could barely look at me without crying. I was hurting her.

            "I came home." She replied. I put my arm over hers stopping her.

            "You don't have to stay. Just leave me. It's better for both of us." I begged. But she only took my fingers, curling the in her palm. 

            "How can you stay that? No please don't say that."  She cried harder now. Holding my hand she laid down beside me her head resting inches away from mine. Her soft hair grazed across my forehead and I sighed at our close contact. I wanted to hold her in my arms, and kiss her but I couldn't. I was a disease, a plague. I couldn't touch her. But there was no need. She touched me; she cared for me willingly, even though we both could tell it was a lost cause. But maybe in these last moments it wouldn't matter. I reached out and wiped away one of her tears, stroking her wet cheeks with my fingers.

            "I'm came back, and I'll help you get better. Please Erik, believe me." She said

            "I do. You can do anything Belle." I replied. That gave her reason to smile as a rosy blush came in her cheeks. Then she cleared her throat and sighed as if she had something important to say.

            "Erik, may I please tell you something?" she asked. I let my arm wrap around her shoulder. It hurt to raise myself up and the terrible burning sensation in my chest increased. But I didn't care. Theses last moments please let me have them in comfort with the woman I love. Let me be loved at least for the last moments in my life. "Ever since I left that night of the masquerade, I haven't been the same…without you that is. I mean you have changed me so much. I look at life in an entire new way and have this wonderful feeling of being alive and…free. You Erik are the most fascinating and wonderful person I have ever met. I know it might seem forward and perhaps a bit rash, but I have to come out and say this…" her tears increase and I tried to determine if they were tears of joy or sorrow." Erik…I…"

            "Love you." I finished forward knowing it was too good to be true. She looked at me surprised and gasped sharply. Yet I noticed a smile across her lips.

            "You…how did you know?" she asked overcome.

            I felt growing warmth inside me but not from pain, but from love. "I guessed really." I said with a small laugh. My grip on her hand tightens. "But I also hoped and prayed."

            "Oh but Erik it's true. I do love you!" She slipped her other arm around my neck and pulled herself closer. Her face absolutely glowed with excitement. Then she looked deep into my eyes. "Do you feel the same about me?" she asked timidly.

            "Yes I do." I whispered back. I stroked her hair and then leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead. Sighing I let my head fall back on the pillow sighing. "I'm thankful I had the chance to see you again…one last time."

            "No, don't say that. I'm here now everything is going to be…fine." She closed her eyes and titled her head down towards mine. And without another word she kissed me softly on the lips. Tears flowed from my eyes, dripping from under my mask. There where no mournful cries of pity, or "poor unhappy Erik" in this kiss. No farewells. This was one of salvation. It was done purely out of love she did not even care that my very being was filled with disease that she could get herself sick as well. She didn't care. Christine had indeed been my angel, but Belle, she was my savior. There had to be no taste more delightful, no warmth more comforting than that of her lips at this moment.

            "That is for you." She whispered into my ear drawing away. "With many more to come. But now you must sleep. Rest for your strength and for me." That sounded like a good idea to me. She curled up beside me on the bed, the warmth of her body resonating onto the sheets.

"Sleep my angel"

Belle

            I lay quietly on the bed beside Erik. I could not tell if I was wake or asleep. I supposed somewhere in between. I could still hear Erik breathing beside me, his warm breath escaping from his mouth cascading around the space we occupied. Happy thought clouded my dreams. Thoughts of love, marriage, children. Children. I have never thought o that before. I had been content to imagine my days alone, surrounded by my books and music, but still alone.

            But not now. 

            I felt the need to reach out my hand to his. It was shockingly improper for and unmarried man and woman to be sleeping next together this close, but I didn't care, and I don't think I had ever cared. Forget the world, here down in the darkness in our shelter of music and beauty, Erik and I were safe. I felt a light fill the room and it did not take me long to realizes this light did not come from any single candle being lit or a door being open into a another room. No, this light flooded everything and it was so bright I could see it even with my eyes shut. I jerked to wakefulness looking to my side. Erik wasn't there. The whole room was full of the blinding gold light. I dove into the sheets beside me, which were still warm, feeling about. "Erik! Erik where are you?' I shouted. I clamped the empty fabric in my hands and started to cry. I couldn't see anything except the light.

            "Belle…" I heard his silky voice echo behind me. And then I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and I turned around. It was Erik, I could see him now even in the shiny light, he seem to be surround by it almost part of it. He reached a hand up to my face, stroking my cheek, and my lips gently in one caress. "Belle, don't cry for me. I can't bear to see you cry." His face, mask and entire body glowed and behind him two shapes, like abstract wings, were formed of pure light. I wanted to reach out and touch them. No this is all a dream I told myself. Yet I went to touch them anyway and my fingertips were greeted by the soft texture of feathers. They were real, real angel wings. I withdrew back in shock. I looked him over again, everything about him glowing. In one hand he clutched his violin.

            "No this is a dream." I gasped. "This isn't you Erik, this can't be real." One of his fingers wiped away one of my falling tears. 

            "But it is." He replied. "And I'm sorry I have to go now."  I could see him pulling away from me. Why was he going, why the wing? Was he now an… I could hardly bring myself to say it.

            "Erik are you an angel?"

            "What would you think of me as?" was his only answer. I grabbed his hands. I could feel him slipping.

            "No Erik, you can't leave me. Please we've come so far!" I begged.

            I could feel his breath right on my ear. "You knew I was very sick my dear. It was…"

            "No!" I shouted crying harder than ever before. "You can't. I was going to take care of you."

            "It would having taken a miracle to save me."

            I leaned down to kiss his hand over and over again. It was quite for a moment. I couldn't tell what was going on. Erik couldn't be dead. Why was I seeing this? Finally I spoke. "But I believe. I believe and miracles, and I believe in you."  He leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. The scent of his linen dress shirt and the soft smell of soap and rosin that I was accustomed to with him surrounded me.

            "You will remember me when I'm gone, won't you?" he asked. "Remember me and my music." He lowered his eyes and placed the violin in my hands. I curled my fingers around it; touching the body of the instruments as it was one of Erik's hands, tracing my touch along the strings as if they were strands of his hair.

            "I'll always remember." I cried. He started to pull away again, his light fading. I couldn't live without him, he couldn't leave. I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him back towards me and kissed him full on the lips. He tasted so sweet. I let my hand slip under his mask; I just wanted to see him. He didn't stop me. I kept my eyes close at first, only feeling the skin under the mask. Nothing unusual at first but as my fingers strayed from where his cheeks were to his eyes and nose, I could feel the texture beneath my fingers change. I could tell where the deformities where around the eyes sockets the tightly stretched skin, and the nose, I was more than certain there was none. I cried harder than ever before. My Erik, my poor angel. What had he done to deserve this? I decided not to open my eyes. I could in this moment feel his pain, and sorrow, his desperation. 

            He couldn't leave, not now. 

            But I felt a rush of cold wind brush against my face and all around me. I felt the mask slip off and into my hand. I opened my eyes.

            Erik was gone. The room was empty. Nothing as was as if he never was. I held in my hands his violin and his white leather mask. And the memory of his kiss on my lips. I looked down at his mask. The blinding light of the room had faded and now only dim candlelight occupied the space. I felt the interior of the mask and noticed it was wet, wet with tears. I fell backward on the bed, sobbing and noticed it was covered in some other texture beside the sheets. Roses. The entire bed was covered with roses, petals and full blooms. I breathed them in deeply. A rose had brought me to Erik, and roses would have me remember him. Always.

            "Goodbye Erik, my angel."

            The End

A/N: I leave this ending to you, my readers and reviewers to your own interpretation. Think of it as you will, happy ending, sad angsty, confusing. The reason I wrote it this way was I thinking about the original ending and it was really a let down, really angst but anti-climatic. And my reviewers, I didn't want to disappoint you with having Belle finally reach the opera house too late to save Erik or even see him before he died. And I couldn't be so blasphemous to have Erik turn into a handsome prince. So I revamped it and decided it on this ending.

Hope you all enjoyed the story. Sorry for the long time between updates, especially for this chapter, but the last chapter is usually the longest.

I like to thank my reviewers and readers, all of you. I'm not and author as to be so rude as to demand people to review my story or I won't write anymore chapter. But you reviewed the chapters and there where no flames in about the story (huzzah it's a miracle) You all are so thoughtful and nice and you kept me going, especially the ones that went "Start writing the next chapter, don't just sit there go write." I enjoyed you enthusiasm. 

So Thank you too

Tranquill, April, escawing, Siyeran, RubyMoon2, draegon-fire, Night Music, Cyranthe2nd, Chantal, jo, Katie, Black Phoenix, A Watcher, Christine2004/Arianna, Danica Enjolras, Erikstrulove, Phantom's Requiem, J.B., Katie, MetalMeyersJason, Dolphin Animaqus, Ayesha Rose


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